The Painting in the Attic
by Athena93
Summary: My dad always used to say that everything in life had a lesson. He was right, of course. After all, imagine all the brilliant lessons I can learn from the wonderful, charismatic Captain Jack Sparrow? Note my sarcasm, people. NOTE MY SARCASM. Will X OC
1. Prelude

_FYI, I don't own any of the POTC characters, only my OCs._

**Prelude**

Honestly, I have no idea where to begin. In many stories, the intense ending is often told at the beginning so as to capture the listener's intention. I won't do that though; it's a stupid way to tell a story.

A story; that is what I want to tell you today. It's a long one, one that may take a while until it meets its ending. Don't give up though; it's a great story. It's my story. A story about an adventure that took me and my brother, Jared farther away from home that we have ever been. An adventure that had taken us all over the seas of the world, let us meet people from all sorts of life, and help us find true love.

True love, after all, is often unavoidable in adventures like this.

From there, I shall not prolong this anymore. It's high time you heard the story, my story. So huddle closer, the fire is warm. Here, have some cocoa. Listen carefully now.

I shall begin.


	2. The Discovery

**Chapter 1**

**The Discovery**

The morning sun gleamed through the thicket, casting feathery shadows along the front lawn. The grass was green and fresh, the sweet scent of dew lingering in the air. The sky was a perfect blue, the slivery clouds hanging low against the mountain top in the far distant. Kids pedaled by in their bikes, their laughter and the ring of their bells echoing throughout the suburb neighbourhood. It was a perfect morning.

"Looks like the economy just shrank again," I droned, flipping through the newspaper slowly. I placed the large bundle of papers face-up down and rolled on my stomach lazily. Mornings like this always made me want to go back to bed. Reed rolled his eyes at me.

"Joe, I'm serious!" he practically yelled, sitting down opposite me on the wooden porch. His silver-blonde hair glowed in the morning sunlight. Standing on the porch steps, Jasper echoed him.

"Reed's got a point," he said, nodding away, "Don't you think, as your best friends, we deserve to know?" He pulled his collar away from his body; the humidity was high today.

I flipped a page. "Looks like Mrs. Jones lost her cat again," I replied, obviously ignoring them. I wasn't about to point out the obvious to them. Jasper sighed as Stevie bounced over the porch railing and lean against the pillar.

"Joey, c'mon," Reed began again, placing a palm down on the paper to get my attention, "Are you moving or what?"

A fly buzzed by and I swatted it away. I hated summer. When most kids waited all year for summer, a time of beach holidays and sleep-ins, I dreaded it. Summer was the break before the start of a new year. It was the long, seemingly never-ending break before yet another year closer to our future.

"TELL ME WOMAN! TELL ME!" Reed yelled loudly, reaching over the paper and shaking my shoulder frantically. His blue eyes were opened in panic. I slapped him hard on the face.

"HEY!"

"I've told you before, Reed. You make too much noise and I'll slap you."

All of a sudden, from the front lawn, my grandmother's voice called out melodiously.

"Joanna! Joanna, sweetie!" I gave out a groan and rolled my eyes. My grandmother could never get my name right.

"It's Joey, Grams!" I called back, pulling to my feet. There was no answer. With my best friends trailing behind, I sighed in defeat walked towards my grandmother.

The entire lawn was scampered with my house; the living room sofa, the old collection of vases my dad used to keep and probably about everything else that used to belong inside the house was now all over the front lawn, stacked on tables. People roamed around the tables, neighbours whom I have known all my life. They picked and pointed at the stuff, kids jumping up and down on the coach.

"Yup, Grams?" I asked as I neared my grandmother who stood behind the cashier. She wore an airy shirt and had let her black hair down today.

"There you are, Joanna!" Grams smiled at me, as she cashed in the price of one of my dad's old books. Beside her, I saw Uncle Justin helping pack the sold items. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Now, honey," Grams smiled irritatingly at me, "Do your old grandmother a favour and go get the old antique lamp your father kept in the attic. Be careful, now. My great-grandmother gave it to me."

I sighed in annoyance. I didn't want to do any chores for today. It's bad enough I got to see my whole house go on sale for the neighbourhood misers. From behind, Stevie's voice broke my thoughts,

"So…are you really going? Are you really moving?"

I sighed and turned around to glare at them. They stared back innocently.

"YES, YOU MORONS!" I screamed, flapping my arms at the painted banner above our heads, the ends tied to trees. It read, "Garage Sale."

"I mean, why the hell than would all of my house be outside on the lawn?! We're moving so we have to sell the things that we don't need!" I screeched, drawing stares from the crowd. My grandmother glared at me from behind the counter.

"Ohhh…." the three of them said in unison, goggle-eyed.

I threw my hands up in the air and turned to march back to the house. My footsteps sounded like thunder as I marched up the steps of the porch and into the house, angrily. The truth was I wasn't mad. No, I was just upset. It has been a week since the funeral and already, my grandmother has planned on moving Jared and I to the old family home in Texas with her. She was already selling all of our things, the things like the TV and the sofa which we would obviously have in Texas.

Despite the rationality of it all, I couldn't help but be upset. This was my home. I had grown up here, lived here all my life. I had made friends here, the best a girl could ever ask for. I had everything I had ever wanted.

And soon, it was all going to disappear.

Man, I need a holiday.

I climbed up the polished steps quickly, fully aware of the undecorated walls beside me. The house felt lonely and cold. I reached the final step of the second floor and dragged myself all the way to the attic door. All was quiet.

The attic door was no less than a hatch in the wall. One had to pull it down to find stairs that would lead up to the attic itself. My brothers and I had a few times seen my dad go up there; the attic was strictly off-bounds to us. Even as I grew older and more rebellious, I never went up there. The attic was like a spooky, haunted room of unexplained entry, of which we never dared enter.

At least, while my dad was still alive.

I pulled the down the hatch and heard it creak with age. Folded wooden steps doubled over, dust smiting the air. I coughed briefly before ascending up the shaky steps.

The attic was a small, wooden room, with a slanted low roof. The air was thick with dust and heavy with the foul smell of mold. I pinched my nose and flipped the switch that was on the wall.

There was no light.

The morning sun rays filtered through the dirty, stained window on the wall, displaying the dust particles that danced up and around in the air. Through the window, I could spy the front lawn and the people, scurrying about to buy up my stuff.

The attic was full of junk of every sort. Piles of old furniture, books and toys laid about, arranged neatly together. Most of them were covered by white sheets, clean white sheets that looked brand new.

I spied an old antique lamp on top of a tall bundle at the end of the room, leaning against the wall. Since it was the only lamp I could see, I rushed for it. I wanted as hell to get out of there. The place was spooky. Maybe that's why Dad never allowed us up here. I tiptoed and pulled down the heavy lamp. It jiggled as it came down, the hard metal cold against my skin.

I held the dusty, heavy object closed to my chest, sighed and turned around to leave when something else caught my eye. I peered behind the tall bundle, at the wall that it leant against. The bundle of objects covered most of the wall yet I could see what looked to be a painting resting on the wall. I t was faded and seemed to fill up the whole entire wall, from the ceiling to the wooden floor. A strange musty yet fresh smell came from it.

I put down the dirty-old lamp and began to push at the tall bundle of objects. Dust stirred at the sudden movement and I began to cough violently. I pushed harder though, straining my muscles. My curiosity was killing me. Yet, the bundle hardly budged. It was way too heavy.

"Hey! You done?!" an annoyed voice startled me from behind, causing me to jump in surprise and turn around. Jared's head peeked out of the hole in the attic floor; he was standing on the attic steps. His usual handsome face was screwed up in boredom and frustration as he looked around him for a second and than back at me.

"Um…yeah…you scared me, Jared!" I scolded, only to receive an eye roll from him.

"Yeah, yeah," He replied, sighing as he spoke, "Whatever. Look, could you hurry up with that damn lamp? Mrs. Audrey from next door is dying to buy an antique lamp for a good price and Grams is definitely losing her head over keeping her interested in our lamp." He sounded a bit tired, a little short breath as he spoke.

I waved my hand at him and turned back to my task.

"Fine," I said, cracking my knuckles, "But first, come and help me push this."

From behind, I heard an exaggerated sigh and than the trumping of footsteps on the wooden floor. The wood boards creaked under his weight.

My brother came up beside me and sighed,

"Why? What are you-..?"

"Just help me, damnit!" I snapped, cutting him off. I was never his biggest fan. Sighing, Jared placed his hands on the bundle and pushed. I followed suit, only I leaned my entire weight against the objects.

Slowly but surely, the objects slide over the wooden floor, scattering dust everywhere. I pulled myself straight and dusted away all the dust on my clothes, running my finger through my dark blonde hair in case dust had caught in it. Jared coughed.

I turned now to look at the unblocked picture pinned onto the wall and gave out a gasp. In front of us was a tall, parchment painting of a ship sailing on the seas. It was an old vessel ship with dark sails and black rims. The sea it sailed on was rough and dark, waves hitting against the ship with all its might. There was no sun above the ship; the sky was covered by ominous grey clouds that hung low near the sails. Fish darted out of the fighting waves and birds flew near the ships starboard.

For a second, I swore I could hear the ship itself. In that attic, in that wooden house in the suburbs, staring at the painting, I swore I could hear the raging sea gushing about in my ears and the wail of the wind screaming in my head. The gulls called out and voices of men crying out in panic and fear clouded my mind.

"Hey, you okay?" Jared broke through the mist of my thoughts, slight worry seeping into his voice. I shook my head awake and almost immediately, the sounds stopped. I looked at him and smiled weakly.

"Ya, I'm fine. It's a cool painting, ain't it?"

My voice came out shaky and weak. I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goose bumps. That was really odd. Jared raised an eyebrow at me before gesturing at the painting,

"Well, I'm no artist," Jared half-grinned, one of the few smiles that I had gotten out of him all week, "Ya, you know, this was kind of Jack's thing…"

His lips paled at the mention of our brother and I felt my insides churn like a washing machine. His baby blue eyes fell to the ground and his licked his lips before carrying on.

"It's not bad."

"Hmph!" I snorted before folding my arms at him, "We're not telling Grams."

"What?!" Jared replied in disbelief, his face reddening, and "Why not?"

"Well…b-because she'll sell it!"

"Well, yeah! Good! We could get a lot out of this old thing."

"It's Dad's!"

"He doesn't need it anymore, Joey!"

"Maybe! But I sure as hell don't want to-…"

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by a low hissing sound. We both turned sharply around to look at the painting on the wall. Right before our very eyes, the colour of the paint started to fizzle out like a flame. No, that would be a wrong description. The paint of the picture started to dilute into the parchment, disappearing as it went. I gasped as the dark seas dissolved into nothingness and the ship with black sails fade away into the parchment. The parchment became blank, leaving no evidence of the colours that had just been staring at our faces.

Jared and I stared at the blank parchment, jaws hanging open. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest and I was pretty sure I could hear Jared's do the same. The attic was quiet. I could the dull sound of neighbourhood chatter and children's laughter hitting dully against the walls. The sunlight had grown stronger, its hot rays making the wood smell of a burning fire, as it always did. The world outside was normal, alive and awake. In here, in the forbidden attic, it was silent.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God."

My brother took a step backwards, his hands trembling at his side. His eyes were open in shock.

"Did you just see-…"

"Uh-huh," I answered, goggled-eyed as well. The blank parchment laid before us, still smelling musty. I took step forward, hands reached out towards the canvas.

"Joe! Don't!" Jared hissed and yanked me back by my arm. I yelped in pain and smacked him hard on the head. He glared back as I hissed at him, our voices low for no particular reason,

"Don't do that! It hurts!"

"Don't go near that thing," Jared whispered angrily at me and grabbed my wrist. He began to pull away but I stood my ground.

"Awww, c'mon Jared!" I whined, slipping my hand out of his grip, "There's probably a perfectly logical reason why the paint…um…disappeared!" I grinned at him as he stared at me, incredulous. The sun was shining through the window fiercely now. By my calculations, it would be about near mid-day.

"Look," I sighed, moving slowly backwards, "There's nothing weird-…"

"The paint disappeared!"

"Yeah, yeah! Big deal! Look, all I have to do is touch it and you'll see that there is nothing wrong with the damn painting!"

"Don't," was Jared's only answer as I neared the empty canvas. I didn't care. I turned around to the blank parchment and reached out with my hands.

"Seriously, Joe. Don't," Jared's voice was dangerous low. I could hear the front door being thrown open and the voice of our uncle calling out for us. The sounds of the neighbourhood had diminished to a low lull. Winking at my twin, I reached out and touched the yellow surface of the canvas.

The canvas rippled beneath my fingers, a silvery hue dashing across the whole parchment at an amazing speed. I pulled back and gaped as the silvery wrinkle streamed all over the blank canvas. Behind me, Johnny reached out and pulled me back slightly. His hand did not let go of my arm.

The canvas stopped moving finally, returning to its normal empty face. I gulped once and turned to Jared, who was pale as a ghost. From below, I could hear Uncle Justin rummaging about in the kitchen.

I reached forward one more time, this time with no interruption from Jared. The moment my finger tips brushed against the harsh parchment, it waved again. Only this time, I did not stop. My hand fell right through the blank canvas, disappearing from my view into the wall. Jared gave out a surprised yelp as the silvery waves erupted from the canvas around my wrist. My eyes were opened in panic and goose bumps exploded all over my body.

I pulled away my hand, Jared's breath short yet deep. I saw my palm again, saw it appear from the wall. The parchment stopped moving.

"It's wet," I commented, my voice shaky. My hands were dripping with cold water, a fresh, salty smell coming from it. Jared said nothing, his mouth hanging open.

There and there, I decided. I closed my eyes and breathed softly. Then, with eyes open, I walked right up towards the blank parchment.

"Joey!" Jared cried out but it was too late. I stepped right into the blank parchment and felt the cold and darkness engulf me.


	3. Crabs were better companions

**Chapter 2**

**Crabs were better companions**

"_Listen to me, Joey. I'm your father!"_

"_Dear God! So what?!" I screeched my honey-coloured hair flying across my cheek. I pulled the hoodie off my shoulders in a huff. _

"_So what?!" my father roared, banging his fist on the wooden table, "I'm your father! I raised you, you ungrateful thing!" Jackie sat at the corner, his eyes reading the book at a rapid speed._

"_You live in my house, you do as I say!" he yelled, cheeks flushed with anger. I felt rage as thick as honey boil within me._

"_Than maybe I shouldn't stay here anymore!"_

"_Go ahead!" he replied, as I began to march up the stairs, "Go and leave! See if I care!"_

_I spun my head around, anger stirring within my heart._

"_I hate you," I hissed, turning on my heels and marching up the stairs, "I really hate you."_

The squabbling of seagulls awoke me. I lifted my heavy head from the wet sand, my eyes straining to adjust to the bright light. Water, cool water, glided around me, pulling and pushing over me. I could smell the sweet scent of salt, the heavy lingering aroma of the ocean. The sun beat mercilessly on my back, the heat licking my tanned shoulders.

"I'm on a beach," I realized as I slowly rose to my feet. My muscles protested against the movement but I ignored the pain. I needed to see where exactly I was.

The ocean stood behind me, the horizon stretching far away in the distance. The salty air hit me straight on the face, pulling back my hair into frenzy. Waves licked my feet cordially, the white foams beneath the breakers appearing as white horses in the distance. Not a cloud embellished the sky; it hung over me like a pure blue crystal. In front of me, palm trees swayed before a great jungle, the rich and powerful wind making the leaves sing out in laughter. There was no other sense of life on the sands.

"JARED!" I screamed at nothing, hoping that something or someone would answer me. The wind wailed at me in answer and I spied a crab crawl across the sand and into a nearby hole.

"HELP! ANYONE, PLEASE!" I yelled, panic erupting in my chest. My lungs suddenly felt tight and wet. No one answered. I looked to my right and to my left. The beach seemed to stretch on for miles.

"Okay, Joey. Don't panic," I advised myself as I began to walk in circles. My feet made the same impressions in the sand at each turn.

"Alright," I found myself looking at the crab that had crawled back out of the hole, "Let's think rationally. I stepped into a… well…parchment. Than, I ended up on this beach!" I was exasperated. None of this made sense. How could anyone step into a piece of paper and what…be teleported?

I slumped down on a nearby rock and looked down at the silent crab.

"What do you think, Mr. Crab?" I asked, convinced that I have certainly lost my mind, "What do you think happened?"

The crab did not answer and just scurried away.

"Fine! Abandon me as well! Just like everyone has!" I screamed and fell hot tears fill my eyes. The cold wind hit against me and for a spilt moment, I felt everything crumble within me. My father, Jackie, Grandma, Uncle Justin, even Jared, were all gone.

There was no one.

After a few minutes, I pulled to my feet. There was no use crying over spilt milk. Rubbing the tears from my eyes, I kicked off my Adidas shoes and tied the shoelaces around my wrist. I than turned to my right and began to walk, bare-footed, for I yearned for the feel of the sand.

I had no watch, therefore, could not tell the time. Yet, I was pretty sure that I walked at least for half and hour. Strange things laid on the beach as I walked. Strange things that I did not near. Parts of wreck ships laid scattered about, accompanied by broken bottles and gleaming shells. The parts of ships that laid on the sand were all wooden, causing me to raise an eyebrow.

Where the hell was I?

A loud yell from somewhere in the distance drew me out of my thoughts. I picked up my speed and began to run along the water edge, my feet sinking slightly into the sand at every step. I ran quickly and before I knew it, my eyes caught upon the familiar figure of my brother, lying on the beach whilst screaming for his life.

"JARED!" I screamed, joy exploding within me. I had never been so happy to see that bastard in my life. I ran towards him, a big smile on my face. He laid on the sand, clutching something on his face and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Jesus! What-…"

"HELP ME!" was his only answer, his voice muffled and strained. It was than I saw that clutching to his face was a pink, slimy squid. I grabbed at the disgusting thing, yet it wouldn't budge.

"Hold still, Jared!" I ordered as he cried in panic, moving about frantically. The stupid squid wouldn't release its clutch of Jared's face. I pulled with all my strength, the squid slipping under my grip. Jared was still screaming the daylights out of himself.

"Get it off me! Get it off me!"

"I'm trying! Hold still!"

"Get it off!"

I placed a foot on his chest and pulled, like I've never pulled before.

"Ahhh!" I yelled as I yanked the animal of Jared's face and with a fling, tossed it back into the tumbling waves.

"Yuck, yuck, yuck!" Jared wailed, plunging to his feet, face screwed up in disgust. Purple ink stained his handsome face.

"You got a little something…um…on your face..." I giggled at him.

"What?!" Jared cried, rushing towards the water. Peering at his appearance in the moving waves, he gave out a yelp of complete disgust and disbelief, and stared smacking his face, trying desperately to remove the squid's ink off his face. I laughed watching him danced about in desperate attempt to rid the ink.

Next thing I knew, I enveloped him in a hug. He stiffened at my touch and stopped moving.

"Um…Joe…"

"Dear God, you have no idea how much I missed you!" I smiled in his chest, "I thought that you had abandoned me."

"Um…Joe…you're hugging me."

Realization hit me and I pulled away, the smile dropping from my lips. I smoothed my shirt and looked up at him. It had to be the first time in years that I had hugged him. It felt strange and so totally awkward.

"Right…" I stammered, pulling back a falling hair behind my pierced ear, "I-I just…umm…wanted to thank you….you know…for coming to get me."

"I didn't do it willingly, if that is your assumption," Jared replied, walking away from me, hands on his hips. His thick football jacket looked out of place on the beach. His brown hair tossed in the wind.

I bit my lower lip and glared at him.

"Well, were you forced here?!" I asked sarcastically, anger evident in my words. All my joy on seeing him had vanished.

"Well, yeah! I mean, why the hell did you had to jump into the…painting?!" Jared hissed, equally mad.

"You jumped after me!"

"Not to save you!"

"Then why the hell are you here?! I never asked you to come along!"

"Because I know that if you just disappeared, I would get into a lot of shit!"

"Oh great!" I screamed, throwing my hands into the air, "So you just came here to get out of trouble?"

Jared did not answer. His face was red with anger and his eyes were wide open with rage. He glared down at me with immense hatred. I turned away and sighed. Crabs were better companions. Yet, there was no use in arguing now. What was done has been done.

"Listen," I turned back to him, my voice softer, "There is no point in fighting. It's not going to solve anything."

Jared didn't answer me immediately. He seemed to cool down a bit, but his raging emotions were still evident.

"What happened after you walked through the painting?" he hissed out, still glaring at me.

"Don't know. Blanked out, I guess. Woke up on the shoreline."

"Same here. Any idea where are we?"

"None."

Jared turned to me and began all the chaos again.

"This is your entire fault!"

"Don't you dare start this again!"

"If you hadn't gone into the painting, we wouldn't be stuck here in God Know's Where!" he yelled.

I had just about enough of him. I readied my fist in a punch and was about to sail it to his face when a crack of wood caught our attention.

We swung our heads around to see a little girl standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around a basket. She had to be at the most 9 or 10 for she stood no taller than a mailbox. Her blonde hair was tied up in an old Victorian-like fashion, with the ends gliding over her shoulders. She wore a long, brown puffy dress, like in those movies about the old English days. Her pretty freckled face turned bright red as she stared at the ground. A broken twig sat under her worn out shoes.

Jared and I exchanged puzzled looks. What the heck?

The girl turned to walk away but Jared immediately called out for her.

"Wait! Wait please," he cried, advancing a little. The girl stopped in her tracks and turned to side-ways to gaze at us. Her skin was bronzed from the sun.

"Um…please...do you speak English?" Jared asked, moving a little bit more. I remained behind, watching the scene unfold before me. The girl swayed slightly at her feet, clenching the basket tightly. She was dressed so oddly that it puzzled me. She gave Jared a quick look before nodding her head fiercely. Jared looked back at me before smiling back at the little girl.

"Good. Now, sweetheart, would you tell me where we are?" Jared sounded all so sweet, as if he's stop annoying voice had been sugar-coated. The little girl said nothing for a good half minute. My patience was wearing thin. So was Jared's, by the look of it.

The girl then finally spoke.

"Port Royal."

She then turned on her heels and ran back along the beach.

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't go!" Jared cried and then flung his hands down in exasperation. The girl was gone.

"Well, you handled that well," I smirked at him, walking up to join him at his side.

"I got a name, didn't I?" he gritted his teeth, glaring at me over the brilliance of the sun. His blue eyes reflected the rushing waters.

"Well, fine. You did. But what the hell is a Port Royal?"


	4. Port Royal

**Chapter 3**

**Port Royal **

"Okay…we're definitely not in America anymore," Jared sighed as I gazed at the amazing fortifications in front of me.

The walls reached high into the clear sky, the top piercing through the havens. The gray battlements surrounded the settlement that lay inside, the brown smoke swirling overhead the walls. Pathways had been built on top of the walls, walkways for the guards and soldiers.

Ships appeared out at sea, large ships with white sails and wooden starboards. Seagulls flew overhead as the wind rushed from the ocean. In front of us laid an open gate, like those in the movies. Villagers plunged through the gate, wagons full of pigs and men with their cows scurrying through. Women walked up and down in dresses similar to the girl that had been on the beach, arms cradling baskets or crates. Children covered in mud dashed in and out of the gate, their mothers trailing behind.

Jared and I hid behind the rocky cliff, watching the activities with complete bewilderment. Nothing of the whole scene seemed right. I brought this up to Jared.

"Of course it's not right!" Jared cried, throwing himself against a rock, causing me to roll my eyes, "There are wagons! Wagons! And look at the ships! You can't tell me those aren't the old wooden ships!"

He closed his eyes and hit his head in desperation.

"Oh, don't be such a puss, would ya?" I smirked at him, smacking on the thigh. He yelped and glare at me. I ignored him and continued,

"If this is…um…Port Royal, than this might as well be our only chance-…"

"Chance of what?"

"Awww, shush!"

Soon, we had snuck up nearer to the gate. Guards stood at the entrance, holding their long guns carelessly. They seemed rather bored. People rushed in and out of the town, heading up the road that led up to the mountains. It wasn't long before chance stepped in their way.

A wagon full of straw, driven by an old mule, passed by us slowly. The driver seemed drunk and completely oblivious to his surroundings. It was amazing how he didn't crash. I nudged Jared and pointed at the moving wagon. Surprisingly enough, he got it.

On my count, we dashed quickly behind the wagon, unnoticed by anyone, especially the guards. With a jump, I landed on the soft straw, my arm aching from the landing. Jared jumped too and quickly pulled me under the yellow hay just as the wagon passed the tired guards and into the town.

"We're in!"

"Shush!"

It wasn't long before we finally jumped off the slow moving wagon. The guy was still oblivious. We jumped off, hay in our hair and clothes, on a quiet street.

"Damn it! There's hay all over my hair!" Jared growled hotly, brushing off as much of the straw as he could. I rolled my eyes and looked around me. We were on a silent street, with carts and wagons strewed at the sides. The buildings were all low and small, smoke rekindling from the chimney. Litter covered the street, large animal dung all over it.

"Dear God, where are we?" I murmured, turning in circles. It was all like a really bad dream, of which I had no clue of. Beside me, Jared scratched his head, "Well, what do we now?"

I was about to answer him when I spied a bunch of women walking our way down the street. They were dressed in long, big dresses and talked among themselves quietly. Jared noticed them as well and seemed to look about for a place to hide. I had no intentions of hiding. I wanted to get directions.

The group of women finally saw us as they approached and began to slow their pace. They looked to the ground as they walked, cheeks flaming. A lot of people seemed to do that when they saw us.

The ladies finally neared us, but maneuvered to avoid us. I began to speak but my voice was caught in my throat. One of the women reached out and suddenly grabbed my hand,

"Ma'am, come with me! Please!" she sounded frightened and alarmed. She pulled at my hand but I did not budge.

"What? Why? Did something happened?" I cried, looking at her, bewildered. Beside me, Jared looked equally puzzled.

"Come, come, dearie! I'll take you away from him. I'll give you some nice-…" the woman said, glaring at Jared.

"What? Take me away?" I cut her off, puzzled, "I don't understand."

"You vile creature!" another woman from the group hotly cried, stepping right up to Jared's confused face, "How dare you take advantage and demoralize a young woman? Our girls ain't safe in this town anymore!" she had a thick British accent, just like the other women.

I looked at Jared, mystified.

"No, no! He-He's my brother!" I tried to explain. Why in the name did they think that Jared…YUCK!

"What?!" the lady holding my arm questioned, her hands like iron, "Then why, my child, are you out here only in your under-clothes?!"

"HUH?!" Jared and I gaped at the same time. I looked down at my attire. I was wearing a dark green sleeveless shirt and a pair of denim of shorts. How was that underwear?

It was then the sound of marching soldiers started to trump against the floor. The women paled for a second and started to scurry off, leaving Jared and I confounded.

"What the hell?!" Jared called after them but they did not turn back. That's when a group of red-coated soldiers emerged from the bend. I pulled Jared to the corner of the street to avoid the marching soldiers.

Men in red, high-collared uniform marched by, their long, pointy guns held by their side. There were about 15 of them, all adorning a thick white wig that was seen in some movies. Their shoes were polished, their belts tightened. They marched on the grimy earth fiercely, ignoring our presence.

They soon turned the corner and disappeared. After a few seconds, the sounds of screams and gunfire echoed the air.

"Okay!" I yelled, pulling myself back on the street, "What the hell is going on?! I mean, where the hell are we?!"

"Umm...Joe…"

"I mean, do you see any sense of electronics around here? Any cars?!"

"Joey…"

"And what the hell were those people talking about my clothes?! And the soldiers?! I mean, did you see the wigs? Where the hell in the whole universe-…"

"1762," Jared's words caught me off guard. I stopped babbling and turned around to see him studying a piece of dirty newspaper that he had obviously picked up from the ground. His face was pale as a ghost.

"What?"

"Well, it says it right here. May 12th, 1712."

I snatched the paper from him, tearing it slightly. I read it and felt all my blood drained from my face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Told you this was your fault."


	5. Lost in 1712

**Chapter 4**

**Lost in 1712**

Normally, in the usual situations, I was the always the one that takes charge, the one that grabs the problem by its horn and ram it into the wall. Jared, on the other hand, would always run around like a headless chicken.

Unfortunately, in this current predicament, there were two headless chickens.

I sat on the muddy street, staring blankly at the piece of torn newspaper in my hand. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, its fierce glare hard upon my skin. The strong scent of the ocean stirred in the wind, though the wooden buildings hid the glorious waves from sight. Sounds of the people's chatter and their daily activities echoed nearby; the street was still empty.

Jared paced up and down before me, babbling angrily. His tanned face was screwed in an angry scowl, his bushy eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

"I can't believe it…." I murmured, still in a state of denial. I just couldn't believe that we had actually…travelled to the past!

"Well, believe it!" Jared snapped, glaring at me, "We're fucking stuck in the 17th century!"

I cocked an eyebrow. "18th century, genius. Anyway, stop whining. It's not going to change-…"

"This is your entire fault! If we hadn't stepped into the painting in the first place, we wouldn't be here!"

"Like I said, shut up!" I growled, getting to my feet with a huff. I ran my fingers through my wavy brown hair and neaten out my blouse.

"Blaming me is not going to solve the problem, Jared," I glared back at him and looked around. Still, no one was in sight. I couldn't help but wonder where those soldiers with guns had gone, and why they had starred shooting. Jared glowered at me and folded his arms across his broad chest. I could feel his frustration radiating from his red skin. I sighed and then spoke.

"Look, we can argue later. Right now….we got to blend in," I decided, looking down at our attire. Jared was sporting his football jacket; a sleeveless dark green vest with the picture of a fighting wolverine on the bottom left. His long, torn jeans ended in red sneakers, the latest of its brand.

Don't get me started on how inappropriate my attire was; don't forget the crazy, puffed up ladies.

Jared opened his mouth to answer me when approaching voices suddenly cut through the thick silence. I turned around just in time to see two figures come around the bend, voices conversing. I gave out a gasp and turned in circles helplessly, remembering my attire. Jared saw them too and thinking on his feet, he quickly yanked me by my arm and pulled me stealthily towards the wooden buildings.

The voices indicated to me that the two advancing figures were male. Quickly, Jared tugged me to the nearest door and pushed it opened quickly. The wooden door swung open with a creak, darkness seeping to the outside. We rushed into the house, closing the door quickly behind us.

The voices of the two men became louder. Through the darkness of the house, and with help from the stray sunlight that trickled in through the gaps of the wooden walls, Jared and I navigated our way to the back of the room. We swiftly ducked behind a couple of barrels just as the front door swayed open, light flooding the room.

"-not the safest town in the Caribbean, that's for sure," a loud, accented voice boomed throughout the room, followed by the shuffling of feet. My heart beat rapidly in my chest. Beside me, Jared clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle his heavy breathing. A silver of light transpired on the right side of his face. I shifted towards him and saw him peering through a gap between two barrels. I moved lower towards the dirty floor and stared through the gap as well.

Two men stood in the room, light inundating the room from the outside world through the open door. They were shabby-looking men, with dark, muddled hair and dirty clothes. Dirt and earth grimed their faces as the taller of the two went about the front of the room, opening windows.

"Aye, that's true," the short man agreed, scratching the top of his greasy head, "Nay, I 'een told that the old port down on in Isle of Sands is much safer then 'dis cat-wagon! Heard that dee pirates avoid that place as if it was cursed!"

The taller man closed the door, stopping the flies that were sauntering their way through the door. He cleared his throat and looked at his companion with agreement.

"Maybe, it is cursed," he croaked, his loud voice rumbling around the room. He picked up a mug on a table near the end of the room and continued, "Maybe we need some sort of curse down here as well!"

Both men broke into a throaty laughter, the noise wet and cold. Jared cleared his throat softly, wetting his lips.

"Aye, sir," the short man replied, breaking the laughter, showing his yellow, fang-like teeth, "Navy or no navy, we humble traders cannot even make ourselves some shiny bit of gold with those sea-dogs out on the seas a hair's breath away. You would have thought that the armada would have cleaned them up by now."

The tall man approached his friend and handed him the mug. The shorter man grabbed the dirty glass and chugged down its contents greedily. I grimaced in disgust as a foul-coloured liquid spilled over his dirty shirt sloppily, staining his tangled beard.

"You mean like in the sea battle between them pirates and great Lord Beckett a year back, Johnson?"

"Aye," the short man-Johnson-nodded excitedly, "the pirates outwitted dear old Beckett and his fleet. The victory of the sea-thieves over the Great Sea Army men! My, that was a story!"

His friend shook his head and began to pace the room. Jared and I crouched nearer to the ground, our heart skipping. The air was foul and stuffy, the hot sun streaming in through the windows. A big, black rat scuttled nearby, eyeing us just before it dashed off.

"A story, perhaps!" the tall man barked, frowning slightly, "Well, _they _have been using that story to patrol the streets and hunt after every men as if they were pirates!"

Johnson cocked an eyebrow, "Now, now, Greg, calm that temper down. None of us like this situation as much as you do. You know we have no power over Beckett; nobody does."

"We need to get out of here," Jared whispered in my ear, his voice barely audible. I could hear his voice shake with fear. I gazed at the two men we were hiding from and saw that they were still in conversation, oblivious to our presence. I wondered what they would do if they knew we were in here with them; they didn't look friendly.

"How?" I whispered back, eyes wide. The two men broke out in another throaty laughter. Jared didn't answer me for a few seconds. Finally, he murmured back, "I got an idea. Just stay here. Whatever you do, stay here."

"Jared…" I began to say but it was too late. My brother just got to his feet, hands held up in surrender. I stared in disbelief behind the barrels as he stepped out of the darkness and into the full view of the two men.

"Hey, what the bloody hell are you doing in here?!" the tall man noticed him first, drawing out a pistol from his holder. Johnson too jumped to his feet and began to pull out something from his jacket. I cursed the day Jared was born.

"Please, I mean no harm, really," Jared assured them as he took a step closer. Johnson pulled over his gun and aimed at Jared, catching my breath in my throat. I could see Jared shudder.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!" Greg boomed, screwing up his tanned face, "Fancy you can rob me, don't ya boy?!" Beside him, Johnson's face was equally messed up in anger, his pouchy cheeks red.

"Really, no, I'm not here to rob you," Jared explained, wincing at them. I could barely see his face from where I crouched.

"Johnson, shoot him," Greg ordered, his eyes glinting fiercely. Johnson raised his gun to shoot but Jared cut in.

"Okay, Okay! Please, just wait a bit, alright!" he cried, panic seeping into his voice. He began to talk rapidly, telling out the entire story.

"Please, you s-see, my…sister and I…we're kind of lost…and we're not from around here..."

As I brother tried desperately to convince the two men of our innocence, I looked around, trying to find any sort of way of escape. If I knew better, and I did, Jared's brilliant plan of civilized compromising would not work with those raggy-looking men.

I looked around desperately and God have Mercy, I spied a long beam of heavy wood lying just behind the two men. I moved on my stomach, crawling my way towards the piece of long wood. My brother's voice echoed in the background.

"Really, sirs," Jared cried anxiously, his hands still up above his ears, "I-I really don't mean no harm. All I need…I mean, we need is just some sort of-…"

A loud _THUD _reverberated around the room as I whacked the two disgusting buggers right on the head with the heavy wood, sending them crumbling to the floor. Jared gave out a cry of surprise as they hit the ground, clearly unconscious.

"Why the heck did you do that for?!" Jared cried in disbelief, staring at me with wide eyes. He dove to the ground to make sure the two unsavory characters were not dead.

"Awww, shush," I grinned at him, dropping the wood behind me, "They were about to kill ya." I then winked.

"Besides, I got us our costumes."


	6. The weirdo in the hat

**Chapter 5**

**The weirdo in the hat**

The street was bustling with life. Carts and wagons rolled sloppily by, slashing the thick mud on my shins. Market stalls selling all sorts were strewn at the sides of the gritty road, merchants bartering at the top of their lungs. Men and women flooded the street; the women were gritty and tired-looking, carrying food while the men carried heavy, primitive tools and marched around, sloshing mud. Chickens chattered across the path, children chasing after them. Mules and donkeys stood lazily at the sides, the summer flies buzzing around their heads.

Jared and I meandered with the buzzing crowd, sweat dripping down our backs. Johnson's loose, white shirt stuck to my skin, a big blotch of the foul-liquid he had spilled all over earlier in the house residing just below my right shoulder. Johnson's dark pants clung loosely on my hips, his heavy boots sinking into the mud. My long, sand-coloured hair had been pulled up into a dark cap that I had found at Greg's house; not a strand fell out of the cap.

"You look like a boy," Jared observed as he pushed his way through the crowd. A beggar approached him but Jared waved him away. I half-turned to look at him as I continued down the street.

"Well, they ran out of corsets at the store," I rolled my eyes at him, squishing my way past people. Some from the crowd looked up, surprised to hear a guy with a high voice.

Jared too was geared up in different clothes. He wore Greg's (the tall man from the house) attire; a black tight shirt, for Greg was skinny, and long, stained pants. He walked up beside me, his tanned skin glistening from sweat.

As we walked, my mind geared over today's events…Wait, was it still called today? Because, you know, we kind of traveled back in time and I'm not sure….never mind, I'm too muddled over it.

Everything was really in a mess. My thoughts flew back to the painting, to the weird shimmering. None of it made sense. Was the painting…magic?! Had Jared and I transported through time by some sort of sorcery?! I mean, I don't even believe-

Jared's nudge brought me out of my thoughts and I looked up from my walking feet. Before us lay the great expense of the port itself, wooden ships harboured all over the pier. Men walked about on the wooden platform that made up the dock, rolling barrels. The timber beneath our feet was wet and decaying, moss hanging over the sides.

"There," Jared pointed out the ocean, the waves curling peacefully.

"What?"

"There's where we have to go."

I raised an eyebrow at my brother and reflected on how stupid he really was.

"Oooookay….you're obviously delusional," I commented, holding my arms across the chest. My loose blouse was airy, hiding the curves that usually confirmed my femininity. Jared glared at me.

"No, I'm not," he growled, then knocking my head with his knuckles, "Use your head, Joey. You stuck your hand into the painting and met water, salty water….we woke up on a beach, at the rim of the water…any of this getting to you, Joe?!"

I paused and thought for awhile.

"You're saying that….the portal… or whatever is in the sea?!" I exclaimed incredulously all of a sudden. Now, it was confirm. My brother was definitely crazy.

The men working on the dock ignored us, as if we were invisible. From somewhere in the distance, I heard a trumpet sound. My brother cast a wary look about him and began to walk down the dock, talking at the same time. I chased after him.

"Exactly," he replied, his step long and fast, "That's why we have to get there!"

I groaned and caught my brother by his sleeve. He faltered at my fierce pull and turned to me.

"That's it! You're mad! I-It's this place…it's done something to you!"

My brother ignored me, pulled out of my reach and continued to walk. I pursued after him, sighing. Somehow, as we walked, we left the dirty, grimy dock full of small, merchant ships and began to be surrounded by classier, bigger ones. The timber gave way to steady rock and the dirty folk that walked about at the dock diminished in number.

"Jareddddd…."

"Look, I-I don't know how we can…Damnit it, I just want to go home, Joe!" Jared threw his hands up in desperation and stopped to face me. His cheeks were red and I knew that Jared was telling the truth.

He missed home. Well, so did I.

"Fine! Go to the ocean and I-I don't know…drown yourself," I yelled at him, shoving him in the chest with my palms facing him, "Kill yourself for all I care! If you just stop to listen to me-…"

"Hey! You two!" a sharp, English-accented voice interrupted our argument. Jared and I turned to the source of the voice. A tall, upright soldier in dark blue uniform marched our way, his white wig bobbing a-top his head. His pointed boots tapped noisily on the gravel. Behind him two other soldiers followed, though they looked less important than the man before them.

Maybe it was because their wigs were less puffy.

I straightened my back as the man approached us.

"What do you think you're doing here?" he spoke, enunciating every syllable, "Don't you know that this is restricted area? You are not allowed here." He was a older fellow, with large eyes that were shadowed by heavy brows. His lips were held in a stern pout and large, white curls rested just above his ears.

Jared and I exchanged worried looks. I smiled at the man, put on my best charm and began to speak when Jared cut me off.

"Sir, we're really sorry," he dressed his voice in its usual annoying courteous way, "We really didn't know. Don't worry…um, we're leaving now."

He began to push me away, sliding on behind me with a nervous grin at the man when the soldier stopped us with an icy voice.

"Hold it."

His face was screwed up, his eyebrows weighing on his dark green eyes. He neared us, tucking his wrinkled hands behind his back. He smelled strongly of cologne I had never smelled before; what am I saying?! I _have_ never smelled it before!

The man frowned at us, the soldiers behind him watching us with suspicion. I licked my lips in worry.

"Where is your accent from?" his voice cutting the silence like a knife, "I've never heard it before."

Jared and I looked at each other dumbly. Panic numbed my brain. _Shit, oh, shit, _I thought, biting my lower lip,_ we are so dead! _I had totally forgotten about our accent; I should have realized that we stood out like a sore thumb with our American accent. Jared opened his mouth to speak but no words flew out.

"You heard me. Answer," the man demanded. From behind him, one of the soldiers called out to him.

"Lord Errol, sir, you're needed down at the fort."

"Just a moment," he answered. Then, as I stood there, racking my brain for some form of escape plan, the stern man before us suddenly reached forward and yanked me down to the ground, pulling me by my hat. Pain exploded throughout my scalp and I screamed. I heard Jared rush foreword. Tears filled my eyes as the man pulled the grisly hat painfully of my head, letting my blossom curls spill over and onto my shoulders.

"She's a woman!" one of the soldiers cried out in surprise while the other just gaped me, stunned.

"AHHHH! Let go of me, you son of a bitch!" I screamed as the man-Lord Errol-pulled me onto my knees by my hair. I could feel his repulsive fingers tugging on my curls. Jared stood fuming behind me, the soldiers' guns trained on him; somehow, during the commotion, they must have whipped up their rifles.

Lord Errol's face was red from the sun, a small smirk screwed onto his features. I felt hate bubble within me. The pain was excruciating.

"Well," Lord Errol grinned at me, his teeth shining brightly, "A woman disguising herself in man's clothes. Improper, if you ask me."

He pulled me up by the hair and grabbed my collar. I cried out, gritting my teeth. He pulled me to my feet, drawing me close to his face. I struggled but he was strong. Behind me, Jared clenched his fist.

"Let her go!" he demanded but subdued when the rifles cocked into ready position. He stood helpless.

"Not common for ladies to walk about in pants," Lord Errol smirked at me, his cold green eyes alight by a strange flame. He drew my face near his; his breath was foul.

"Must be a pirate."

"What?! N-No…That's impossible!" Jared yelled out in protest as one of the soldiers approached him and seized him. I tried to yell out in defense but more soldiers had appeared. They rushed at us and began to grab at us, pulling us away by our arms.

"Let me go!" I screamed in Lord Errol's face, flinging my hands. Rage boiled within me. Fuck it, I was no pirate! I tried to pull away, to get to my brother, but there were too many. I could see that Jared was too being dragged away.

No way in hell was anyone going to capture my brother.

I jabbed my elbow into the nearest soldier and smacked my fist right up his jaw. As he doubled back, I kicked the soldier in front of me just below his stomach and whipped my other fist at the face of another soldier. I pushed against him and saw a gap through the throng of soldiers surrounding me. Hope stirred my heart. I rushed for it.

A sharp pain exploded on my temple, a sudden ache. My head spinned about and I felt consciousness seep away from me. Slowly, I crashed to the ground, the sounds of soldier's voices, Lord Errol's orders and Jared's yells echoing in my head.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I woke up on a filthy floor, my head still throbbing painfully. My eyes were sore and my body hard and tense, aching. As I pulled my head off the ground, my mind swirled and I brought up my hand to rub my temples. There was a small bump on my left temple, a small bump covered by dried blood. I cursed softly and looked up properly.

I laid on the floor of a small cell, rusty iron bars in front of me. The floor was littered with hay and mud, a foul stench arising from it. A cot laid beside me against the wall, facing the iron bars of other cells that sat beside the one I reside in. A small, barred window sat high above, transmitting harsh afternoon sunlight into the dark room. In front of me, before the iron bars, I could see the stone wall of a corridor that was bathed in firelight. The whole place smelled of decay.

It was then that I first noticed Jared crouched beside the cot, a sullen frown on his face. His handsome face was strewn by dried mud. I got up groggily, my head still spinning. I held my head in my hand and turned drowsily to him. Jared's face was unchanged.

"W-What happened?" I asked, my words slurry.

Jared said nothing. His tanned face was pale and he licked his lips consciously.

"A soldier hit you on the head with the butt of his rifle," he answered monotonously, folding his arm across his chest. I could hear soldiers marching up above on the roof of the cell; were we underground?

"Oh," I answered sloppily and then dropped onto the bed. My neck muscles were beginning to hurt. I closed my eyes and tried to wince off the pain.

"Well, what's the matter with you?" I asked Jared, opening my eyes and cocking an eyebrow at him. Even that simple movement caused my head to do a whirlwind. Jared noticed my pain and stood up. He handed me a metal mug and I chugged down the cool water that resided in it. My muscle began to cease up and slowly, I felt the pain starting to fade away; Thank God!

"Well?" I asked him again and took in another gulp of the cool liquid. It tasted strange though.

"We're to be executed at dawn, tomorrow," Jared replied coolly and strode towards the front iron bars. I spluttered out the water abruptly and gaped at my brother.

"WHAT?!?!?"

"It's the law, Joe!" Jared sighed, hitting his forehead against the cool metal, "Pirates are sentenced to death in Port Royal!" I jumped off the cot and stared at him in disbelief. My headache had disappeared.

"B-But…didn't you tell them we were not pirates?!"

"Dear God! That's all I've been telling them! Those blood Brits don't freaking understand basic English!" he yelled, throwing his hands into the air. I breathed in deeply and tried to stay calm. The prospect of my death in 12 hours made me feel sick. There were so many things I hadn't-…

"Come on, Jared," I shook my thoughts away and began to look around me, "There had to be some kind of way of escape…there has to be!" I began to search the room, the strong denial of the impending death nagging in my head. I went to the window and tiptoed to peer into it when the sound of footsteps froze me.

"Shush, someone's coming!" Jared hissed, and then quickly laid down on the cot, to act casual. I too ran and sat down on the floor, ignoring the fact that it was filthy. I tucked my knees before my chest and we both looked at the corridor parallel with our cell.

A man sauntered his way into the prison corridor from some unseen stairs. He was a tall, raggy-looking person. Long, black dreadlocks hung out from a dirty hat and his skin was tanned as sand. His feet slide over the pebbled floor, his body slanted backwards slightly. His long, limber hands moved about weirdly, large rings adorning almost all of his fingers. Swift, dark eyes peered about around the corridor, staring at each cell momentarily before approaching ours.

He was obviously no soldier.

Jared and I gazed back at him coolly as he clamped his hand on the metal bars and looked about the cell in a frantic manner. He was weird dude; there was a strange light in his eyes. He seemed to be searching the wall that I sat against. After a while, a triumphant grin exploded on his face.

"Ah!" he said, more to himself, pointing with his long fingers. I cocked an eyebrow. The strange man gazed down at the lock on the metal bars and tried to turn the knob. When it sunk in that it was locked, he began to furiously shake the knob, sending the bars creaking in agony. It seemed like he was trying to break open the door.

"Unless you haven't noticed, pal, it's locked," I told him sarcastically. Jared looked at him silently. The strange man looked up at us in surprise, as if he had just noticed us. He bit his dry lips and was about to say something when the sound of a trumpet bellowed just above our heads. The weirdo in the hat rushed back towards the end of the corridor. He disappeared from our view for awhile but soon returned, panic reading in his eyes.

"Listen, love," he cooed at me, a flirtatious smile on his lips, "Do me J'ackie a favour?"

He seemed to be in a rush but I was in no mood for any favours. Jared raised an eyebrow at him.

"What favour?"

"Up at de wall…see de stone marked by a scratch? Aye, love, that one!"

I had gotten up and done as he asked. Don't know why, though, I listened and bothered to help him. Up on the wall, just a little below the window was a scratch on one of the bricks, something that had been done by a knife of some sort. Jared sat motionless on the cot. From above, the sounds of marching soldiers augmented.

"Pull it out now, love," the weirdo grinned, displaying a set of yellow teeth, "That's it."

I pulled the brick out of the wall, surprised that it had actually come out easily. I dropped the heavy brick and gazed into the hole that had just revealed itself. Sitting in the damp hole was a piece of cloth wrapped around a fist-sized circular object of some kind. I looked at it with puzzlement. Jared watched over my shoulder.

"Hurry, love, bring it here," the weirdo spoke frantically, watching the corridor's end. The marching above out heads had become louder and a trumpet sounded off once more. The weirdo outstretched his hand through the bars and splayed out his palm, beckoning for the circular object. I picked up the object with the cloth wrapped around it. It felt strange and powerful in my hands. I could even feel slight warmth emitting from it. I clutched the object closed to my chest and an idea sprung up in my head.

"Help us escape first!"

"What?!"

"You heard me," I answered with a smirk, now more confident with my plan, "Help us escape and you get your little trinket."

Jared jumped up behind me, nodding his head in agreement. His blue eyes were relighted with hope.

"Get us the key! Quick!" Jared strutted towards the bars, excitement more then evident on his face. A smile played on his lips. I nodded in agreement. On the other side of the bars, the man opened his mouth, holding out his finger.

"Now," he grinned, his words a bit slurry, "As much as I want to help you and your pretty lass, lad, I can't."

"The key!"

"There is no key, love, for the key ran off. You see, it was taken in by some savages; thought he was a God. Was about to sacrifice him. I left him on the island but some other pirate…_ahem_…rescued him. Anyway, I pretty much sure that the key is lost…somewhere at the bottom of the sea, perhaps or maybe the key never left in the first place. Maybe-…."

"For the love of God, I don't care!" I screamed at him as Jared stared confused at his babbling. I held up the circular object and raised my voice.

"Look, if you want your thingamajig, get us out of here! And hurry, for I'm pretty sure that we'll have company soon!"

The soldier's voices had increased in volume and more trumpets sounded. Panic rose in my heart.

"Get us out of here!" Jared yelled.

"Alright!" the man yelled back. He turned around to look about frantically along the corridor. Finally, he dashed-he ran real funny- towards an abandoned cart that laid decaying against the side of the wall. It squeaked as he rolled it up and ran it quickly to our cell. The voices of soldiers had become louder. Shouts could be heard.

The weirdo rolled the cart over and then maneuvered the handles onto the edges of door. The handles paralleled against the bars. The man gave it a lopsided look and then put his weight on the cart. With a creak and a whine, the door fell off its hinges. Jared and I gasped as the weirdo in the hat pulled away the door and clanged it off to the side.

"W-where did you learn that?"

"Aye, a certain blacksmith."


	7. The Great Escape

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**In case anyone's interested, the character Joey is actually personalized off me (meaning I made her as a reflection of me.)**

**Another OC soon to arrive is the reflection of my sister. Jared is actually a reflection of one of my friends, but I'm not gonna say who….**

**Chapter 6**

**Escape **

"Hey! You there!" a harsh voice cried at the end of the corridor, drawing all our attention. Standing by the stairs was one of the guards, rifle in hand. He gaped at us for a second and then charged up the stairs, hollering at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, shit," Jared cursed.

"Time to go!" the weirdo suddenly cried, reaching towards me. He used his knee and hit the circular object out of my hands. I cried in surprise as the object, still wrapped in the cloth, flew through the air and landed safely in the weirdo's dirty palms.

"HEY!"

"Thank you, love," the weirdo flashed his yellow teeth at me. He bowed mockingly at me, his dreadlocks dangling in the air, and then in a wink of an eye, fled down the hallway.

"HEY! Come back, you sonofab-…"

"Joey, come on!" Jared yelled, pulling me by my sleeve. His long, athletic legs began to run down the corridor after the weirdo, my own short legs struggling to catch up. Above us, trumpets cried out loudly whilst man cried, yelled and roared. It would only be moments before they came after us. Our feet patted against the pebbled ground in unison, our breath short yet deep as we ran down the fire-lighted corridor. The weirdo had disappeared from sight.

Jared did not let go of my arm.

At the end of the corridor, we met a flight of pebble steps. We quickly rushed up the steps and before we knew it, the soft glow of the setting sun kissed our skins refreshingly. A fresh gale pulled my hair into frenzy. The cobbled-steps had led us to the very top of the fort, the dancing sea and its bobbing ships before us. The sun was setting in the distance, its light turning the sky into a turbulent world of colours. Seagulls called above.

"There! They are over there, sir!" a couple of red coats standing near us called out to others behind them, eyes trained on us. More red coats surrounded our left. Jared and I turned to each other, the same expression on our faces.

"SHIT!!!"

Thus, began our great escape from Port Royal. Jared and I sprinted pass the guards, breath deep and wild. Shots fired but thank God, none hit us. We ran along the edge of the wall, the sea a mile down. The soldiers chased after us, yelling and hollering. A guard that had been positioned before us saw our approach and readied to tackle us to the ground. Jared pushed him aside easily; he was a footballer, you see. The soldier, who was on the tubby side, skidded to the left in surprise but then dove to try and tackle my legs. Believe it or not, I jumped over his attempt and continued on behind my brother.

Long winding steps sat in a tower at the edge of the fort. Jared and I ran, panting, down it, the soldiers still at our heels. The stairs ended in an open courtyard, strewn with people. Fancy men and women dressed in clean britches and puffed up dresses chatted among themselves. Puffy white wigs bobbed above. Jared and I ran threw the crowd, without a care. Many cried out in surprise; the women were terribly startled. Yet, Jared and I did not care. We were running for our lives here! We dashed through the fancy crowd, my thighs already killing me. I could hear the soldiers trudging down the stairs. Jared and I pushed threw the crowd, towards the end of the courtyard.

Lo and Behold, more stairs.

"JESUS CHRIST! WHAT IS WITH THIS PLACE AND STAIRS?!?!"

"C'mon, Joe!" my brother yelled at me despite my fit of frustration. He ran down the steps, jumping at every two steps. I sighed and followed behind, running quickly. The soldiers were right behind us.

The stairs finally led us to what I was hoping for; the dock. Since the port was right beside the village, I figured that Jared and I could find a good hiding place in the dirty town. After all, we were dressed like the villagers already. Jared must have thought the same thing for he immediately turned in the direction of the village. Hiding was the safest bet right now. A trumpet called. I turned to run after Jared, towards the village, when something on the dock caught my eye. I turned towards the sea.

Standing alone on the nearest docked ship was the weirdo himself. No one else was with him. He pulled away at some ropes of the sail, tugging them fiercely. He had taken off his smelly, old hat and had placed it behind him on one the barrels abroad the ship. He looked weird.

The circular object sat beside his hat.

Now, there are many things in this adventure that I'm not particularly proud of. There are many things that certify me as a complete moron. My next action was one of them. You see, I could have just run after Jared and hid in the town with him. We would have hid there for a few days and when things had finally calmed down, we could go out and try to find a way home. But, no. No. Instead, I preferred the plank.

The circular object, the one I had recovered from the prison cell, was too alluring, too mysterious. It had felt powerful in my hands, warm with life. My heart longed with curiosity. What was it? I looked back at my fleeing brother and chose an idiot's path; Oh, I had to have that circular thing!

Looking up the stairs, I silently crept across the port towards the ship. A long wooden plank joined the floor of the port to the ship. I walked silently across it, walking slowly so that each step would make the least noise possible. The weirdo still stood at the center of the wooden ship, tying away at the ropes of the sail. The boots I wore were tediously heavy yet somehow, I managed not to alert him.

The circular object sat 3 meters away from me.

"JOEY!!!" my brother's voice called from behind, panic and fear evident in my ears. The yells of soldiers echoed throughout the port. I knew this was a risk but….

As I grabbed the circular object and tuck in my arms, the weirdo suddenly swung around with a rusty pistol in his tanned hands, a lean finger on the trigger. A small, interested smile played on his face; he was actually starting to look handsome. Yellow teeth sparkled against the setting sun.

"How do you do, love?" he crooned at me, winking playfully. He cocked his pistol in his hand, the movement jolting my heart. From behind, I heard my brother's cries once more. I licked my lips and pulled the object closer to my body.

"You know I won't reconsider killin' you, don'cha love?" he grinned at me, wrinkling his tanned skin. His hard brow and dark beard was drenched in sweat. He swayed the pistol in his hand slightly.

"Oh, go ahead! Shoot me!" I growled at him, glaring away, "It won't be the first time anyone in this god-damn rat hole tried to gun me. Is democracy dead?!"

As the weirdo stared at me puzzled, Jared charged up the wooden bridge, face red with anger. He saw the gun and the weirdo and with a loud war cry, ran headfirst into the man. The weirdo toppled over in surprise as Jared tackled him to the ship's floor, pistol flying out of his hands. Jared sent a punch to the weirdo's face but the man was equally strong; he kicked Jared in the stomach, sending him bowing over. My brother clutched his stomach in agony and the man took the opportunity to kick him again.

"Stop it! Both of you!" I screamed but they didn't listen. The brawl continued upon the deck, each sending tough punches and kicks at each other. They rolled all over, making me jump out of the way. Now, as much as I appreciated Jared's unneeded help, this was taking too much time. From where I stood, I could see that soldiers had finally emerged from the stairwell. Others hurried along the dock, shouting orders.

I walked towards the starboard of the grand ship, avoiding the two rolling man. I stood up on the wooden stand and held out the circular object over the ship's edge.

"Hey!" I yelled, to get their attention, "HEY!!"

This time, the weirdo looked up from his mud-splat with Jared. When he saw the circular object dangling over the edge, his face paled. He practically threw my brother aside and got up, pointing his fingers at me.

"Stop," he gulped awkwardly at me, his brown eyes glinting in the waning sunlight. His Adam apple bobbed dangerously. Jared groaned on his knees, sore from the fight. I nodded at him.

"Good," it was my turn to smile, "Now that I've gotten you're attention…" I paused for a dramatic effect, "I want to make a deal."

The weirdo smiled at me and reached down to his holster. His grin dropped as he released the absence of his pistol. He twirled frantically around to find it but only saw that Jared had already pick up the pistol and was now holding it gingerly in his hands; he didn't have the guts to aim it. The man swirled around back to me in his dramatic manner and grinned once more at me. I held out the circular object more loosely.

"A deal."

"Aye, and what kind of deal would that be, love?"

"You help us escape."

"I already did that."

"No…" I glared at the strange man, "I mean now. Help us escape, now."

"I'm not so-.."

"I'll drop this, I swear upon God, I will!" I screamed. The guards at the stairway hadn't noticed us but it was only time…. Jared watched me over the man's shoulder, the rusted pistol still in his hand. The man watched me for while, a plan seeming to form in his head.

Jared looked frantically at the dock, at the soldiers. I bit my lips and looked at the tumbling waves. Night was approaching on swift wings. Already, the north sky had loomed into a dark blue. The half-moon peered down at us gently. Panic rode my heart.

Suddenly, a loud pop echoed throughout the port. A cannon the size of a barrel shot through the air, making a thin, wheezing sound. It pivoted up in the looming sky and then came crashing down, breaking the ship's end barrier. The outer wood splintered noisily as I cried out in surprise. All three of us turned to the dock.

Damn it, we had been spotted.

Red coats pilled the dock, cannons and weapons stocked against us. The sounds of trumpets and stamping of feet filled the air. The wooden plank that joined the ship to the dock was already being approached.

"WELL?!?!" Jared and I cried in unison, totally desperate. The man looked at us, the soldiers and the object in my hand. For awhile, he said nothing. Then, he grinned.

"Well, mates, do ye' have what it takes to sail under Captain Jack Sparrow?"

**Note: Thanks to all those who reviewed my story! LOVE YOU! I feel I wrote this chapter badly, so real sorry....I was having exams!!**


	8. The Great Escape 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Don't worry…Will's coming in a few chapters!**

**Chapter 7**

**The Great Escape 2**

The gale pulled at the flying sail and the rope clasped in my hand burned my skin. Yet, I didn't let go. Too much was at stake. Another loud boom sounded throughout the air and the entire ship shuddered violently above the water.

"HOLD IT! HOLD IT, MATES!" Captain Jack Sparrow yelled over the chaos. His dirty, odd-shaped hat had returned to the top of his red bandana, his long dreadlocks hanging out of it. His black hair skipped as he ran oddly about the sun deck, towards the helm. The ship shook again.

"Joey! Hold tighter!" my brother ordered from behind the thick mast, his face invisible. I turned my eyes away from the captain and gazed up at the sail. The giant white sheet danced dangerously in the darkening sky, the fire-light from the militia at the dock casting eerie shadows upon it. I wrenched the haggard rope more furiously, trying to keep the sail from blowing away. On the other side of the mast, I knew my brother was doing the same.

Another blast.

This time, the hit threw me off my feet, rope still in hand. I crashed to the wooden deck, the wood splintering beneath my arm. I gave out a groan as yet another cannonball tore through the deck, smashing through the wooden railings and tumbling into the sea. The rope tugged in my hand.

Rolling over my belly, I turned towards the dock and the wooden board that joined our ship to it. Soldiers already began to march up the wooden bridge, rifles a ready. Their red coats matched the burning of their torches. The smell of gunpowder mingled with the air.

All of a sudden, a loud pop echoed and the wooden bridge shattered into pieces, the soldiers tumbling in the waves. A cannonball had hit the plank and smashed it into bits, sending the men flying everywhere. I gaped. I turned.

Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm, behind a large cannon, a handsome smirk playing on his face. The cannon smoked at its end, its fuse still half-lighted. Captain Sparrow aimed once more, and with another bang, shot a red-hot cannonball towards the band of soldiers at the dock. Cries erupted.

The smile never left his face.

"Jared! Did you see that? He just-…"

"The rope, Joe!"

A huge gale yanked the rope out of my hand; I still laid on my belly. The rope flew upwards, the white sheet flying up to the sky.

"JOE!!!"

"Got it!" I screamed, jumping to my feet. I ignored the battle behind me and desperately looked for the rope. My brother had already secured the other end of the rope at his station, so thank God, the sail could not escape. The wind carried the rope away across the deck, the sail at it's end flapping away. I picked my feet and ran after it, across the deck. At the helm, Captain Jack Sparrow kept firing the cannon, yelling in joy. I chased the flying rope and dashed up the stairs that led to the helm as I went. The sound of gunshots pierced the air. I dashed past the weirdo. The wind began to pull the rope up, away into the sky.

I kicked the floor with my feet and jumped to reach it.

The hands clasped around the rough surface of the rope and inner joy exploded within me.

Now, the only problem was that there was no wooden floor to meet me.

I had jumped over the side of the ship to catch the rope. I hung over the side of the wooden ship, the rope of the sail holding me dangling above the waves. The white sail had been pulled over the wooden deck.

I hate me.

"JARED!!!"

"Hey!" a sharp voice yelled down at me over the sound of battle. Captain Sparrow pushed the flinging white sail off him and glared down at me.

"Would ye stop playin' about, love?"

"PULL ME UP! PULL ME UP! PULL ME UP!"

The captain grabbed the rope and began to pull me up. Another cannon ball flew through the air, this time hitting a part of the mast. Wood came tearing down on the deck. The whole ship shuddered again.

Captain Sparrow hauled me up from over the side, dropping me uncaringly on the wooden deck. I slammed against the wood and moaned. I didn't let go of the rope.

"Go on!" the captain yelled at me, tugging me to my feet, "Tie the sail down!"

With a nod, I ran towards the base of the mast. The wind picked up the sail again, the strength of it's breath strong enough to lift me. I reached Jared, who stood there with an angry frown on his face. He yanked the rope out of my hands and with all his might, began to tie it down.

There were wonders my brother could sometimes do.

Captain Sparrow had resumed his firing. So had the soldiers. More cannonballs blasted our way, tearing the ship apart. I was surprised we hadn't start sinking yet. With combined effort (I decided to help), Jared and I finished tying the rope down. The sail was secure. The wind pulled at it fiercely.

I gazed down at the dock. Captain Sparrow's efforts were slowly becoming ignorable. More soldiers swelled at the wooden harbour, more cannons arriving. Small boats had already been drawn out; they were preparing to board the ship with boats now that the plank was gone.

I ran near the helm and shouted up to the captain.

"What do we do now?! We can't hold them much longer! The ship is going to sink!"

The captain looked down at me and yelled back.

"Ready the anchor! Now, mates!"

Ok, I had no idea where the anchor of a Victorian-era ship was, but somehow my brother did. He nodded at the captain and ran towards a big, metal object with protruding ends beside the mast. I ran to it as well. Metal chains wounded around the object, the protruding ends high and multiple. It hit me.

"Push, Joe! PUSH!" Jared yelled and began to push at one of the metal sticks sticking out of the object. I followed suit. I grabbed an end and began to push it clockwise, the same way as my brother. The harsh wind fluttered up my loose white shirt and grazed my belly. Gunshots echoed the air.

Slowly, but surely, a low grunting sound moaned from deep down below us. Weight pulled at us as we pushed the ends of the object, pulling up the anchor. The chains creaked and sweat rolled down our back; I'm sure the yielding of the anchor was a job meant for more than a teenage boy and his small fry of a sister.

"HURRY UP, YOU RATS!" Captain Sparrow's voice yelled behind me. I stopped pushing a little to turn around and glare at him when a cry from behind me drew all my attention. A soldier stood abroad the deck, another's hat seen over the edge of the deck. Over the side, a tiny boat full of soldiers rocked beside our ship, the red coats gathered near our ship's rope ladder to the deck.

They were boarding us!

I gave out a cry of surprise but had little time to react. The soldier charged toward me, sword flinging. His eyes sat ablaze. I completely let go of the metal end and tried to dodge him. My brother, on the other end of the anchor-bringing object doubled-back at the sudden release and fell back on his butt. I heard two loud pangs; one at the bottom of the sea and the other, by the meeting of a metal pole with Jared's head.

I tried to run back from the sword-yielding soldier as he came for me, my long bronze hair frantic in the wind. My back touched the mast and before I knew it, the red coat slashed his sword down.

Sharp pain tore through my stomach and I doubled-back, clutching my tummy. It was a pain I had never felt before. I grimaced and gazed down. My white blouse had been sliced open just above my belly button, revealing a bloody scar. Blood spilled out over my tanned skin.

I had little time to think. Without much thought, I rushed head-first into the man's belly, sending him onto the wooden deck on his butt. His hat fell off his head. His thin sword clanged to the ground. Seeing my opportunity, I dashed for it. The soldier saw me and still on his butt, reached wearily for the blade just as I did. He grabbed it before me, crying out in triumph as he did. I gave him no room for celebration. I slammed my knee into his face, a loud cracking sound following.

The soldier howled and grabbed his nose, tears forming in his eyes. Blood spluttered all over his face; I must have broken his nose. I pulled back from the crying man and reached down for the sword which he had abandoned. Cannon blasts still resounded through the air.

I turned around in circles, trying to figure out what to do. Should I kill this man?! God NO! Two other soldiers had already boarded the ship, one standing by the ladder to help his brothers in arms up the ladder while the other held up his gun.

The sound of gunfire cracked loudly and a bullet zigzagged past my ear. I yelped and ducked down near the soldier with the broken nose. My eyes searched for my brother. Was he still unconscious?!

Ignoring the pain from my wound, I closed my eyes and with a war cry, drove the sword in my hand into the soldier's leg. He cried in mortal agony as the blade plunged in and I bit back my lips in disgust. I couldn't believe I just did that! Blood sloshed out of the wound as the man screamed and I nearly cried out myself. I have always been rough, always beating people up. This guy especially deserved it, slicing me like that. But this was a new low.

I had no choice.

"God…God, I'm so sorry! Really, I'm so sorry," I cried over the sound of the battle, throwing a begging look at the crying man, "Please…j-just stay!"

As I rose, another shot fired, this time the bullet hitting the mast. I dove back down. The sky had completely darkened above and now, it seemed that the sea was getting wilder.

Everything was going wrong. How the hell were we supposed to get out of this?!

Captain Sparrow was still firing at the dock. More boats were in the water. Cannonballs flew everywhere. Jared still laid down on the deck, obviously unconscious. The ship was being destroyed.

Damn it, what the hell do I do?

Then, I saw it. A meter away, a large wood plank laid still, part of the mast that had been broken off my cannonballs. It was bigger then the one back in the house at Port Royal but…

With a war cry, I ran towards it, awfully aware of the soldiers on the deck firing at me. The bullets whizzed past me like in those action films. I bent down and heaved the wooden beam upon my shoulder, grimacing at the weight. God, it had to be the heaviest thing I have ever carried. With that, I ran across the deck, toward the firing soldiers. I think a bullet hit my foot.

I didn't care. With all my effort, I smashed the wooden beam into the soldier who had fired at me first. He toppled back at the impact, crashing into the only two other soldiers on deck (except for the soldier with the broken nose) who stood just in front of the rope ladder. I spied their comrades on the ladder, dangling off the side of the ship.

The soldiers fished for their guns but I was faster. With a scream, I smashed the wood beam into them. The whole lot of them fell back through the hole in the railing, yelling as they went. The soldiers on the rope ladder fell too, all of them tumbling into the ocean.

"Astra la vista, Baby!" I yelled in triumph, dropping my wooden beam, leaning over the edge and beaming down at the swimming soldiers. They cursed and yelled at me. I punched the air and did a little victory dance. That was totally-

A cry right behind me pulled me out of LaLa land. I swirled around and screamed. The soldier with the broken nose stood in front of me, a bloody sword in hand. His wound on his leg oozed deep red.

I tried to reach the beam but it was too late. The soldier brought down a sword. I screamed. A gunshot sounded.

The soldier stopped in mid air, his eyes drawn wide. Blood spluttered out of his mouth. He fell sideways to the floor, revealing my brother who stood wobbly behind him. Captain's Sparrow's gun was clenched in his hand, the pistol aimed directly where the soldier with the broken nose had been; Jared had shot him in the head. He had woken up just in time.

He dropped the gun down to the ground, his eyes glazed. He looked awfully dizzy. A bruise the size of a quarter stained the right side of his forehead.

I love him.

I race toward my brother and enveloped him in a bear hug. This time, he responded by pulling his arms around me and hugging me back. His grip was still weak.

"I-I killed him, Joe…..I killed him..."

"You saved me, Jared. It's okay," I reassured him, tears suddenly clouding my eyes. He wobbled a little at his feet. He was warm.

"Oi, you two!" the Captain yelled, drawing our gaze up onto the helm. Captain Jack Sparrow stood crouched behind the cannon, avoiding the gunshots.

"Now, how 'bout ye get us out of here?"

**Hey guys! I hope the story's to your liking! I am really sorry that I haven't update in a long time and that this update can be….unsatisfactory. However, I really wanted to include the swashbuckling adrenaline of POTC! Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! I really, really hope you guys will review! If you have any ideas, please let me know! **

**THANKS!**


	9. Verdad de el Corazon

**Just for the record, I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Excuse my Spanish.**

**Chapter 8**

**Verdad de el Corazon**

"I'll like to see the look on that Lord Errol's face right about now," I sighed drowsily as I gazed at the diminishing lights of Port Royal. In the vast darkness, the town looked like an island of fire-light, a bobbing cruise ship in the distance.

Night engulfed us all. Stars littered the black sky, their bright lights reflecting off the surface of the dark sea. The wooden ship rocked lazily on the calm waves, its gentle back-and-fro swaying me to sleep. Lanterns fueled by oil sat all over the deck, its yellow glow painting the sun deck a cozy colour. A soft breeze rocked the ship forward and the sound of the gentle waves whispered throughout the air; the sea at night was a beautiful spectacle.

Behind me, Jared's teeth crunched in a red apple.

"Well, _I_ don't ever want to see Lord What's-his-name face again," my brother commented, his mouth full of apple bits. He laid lazily against the mast, his legs sprayed out. His copper-coloured hair seemed blonde in the lantern's light.

I turned around and smiled tiredly at him. The day had drained me of all energy. All the running about, hiding around, stealing and escaping had snapped up all my strength. The sun's angry glare had not helped much.

I gazed down at my stomach. The wound that had been previously made by the soldier that Jared had eventually killed was now bandaged; Jared had found a roll of bandages in the Captain's cabin which, according to him, was as fancy as a king's. It still hurt of course, the wound I mean. I could still feel the cold blade of the soldier's sword slashing through my flesh.

It was only my imagination, of course.

Thank God, the wound had not been too deep or we would have had a serious problem.

It was only two hours ago that Jared, the weirdo-Captain Sparrow I mean- and I had escaped the clutches of Port Royal's soldiers. It was quite crazy, actually. I had never actually been in a battle before, especially one that concerns soldiers and pirates; I'm now quite confident that the weirdo was no ordinary seaman. He blasted the cannon at the port repetitively as he taught us how to maneuver the ship away. It was tough, but by God's Mercy, we pulled through.

Captain Sparrow was some pirate.

I looked about me at the pathetic state of the stolen ship. The mast was broken in some areas and bits of wood littered the floor. Gaping holes in the wooden railings threatened our safety; I as hell had imaginations of being pushed through one of those holes and into the deep depth below. We were sure as hell lucky not to be already sinking.

I turned away from the sea and gazed over at the wheel. Captain Jack Sparrow stood behind the helm, eyes drawn forward. His right hand clenched the wheel while his other tanned palm held out a compass. The lantern's yellow glow played peacefully on his handsome features, his dark, clever eyes glinting in the light. His thin lips wore a soft smirk, a confident leer. His holster laid empty at his waist; Jared still had his gun. The dirty hat sat once more on his head, the gold from his rings winking at me.

"How does he navigate the ship in the dark?" I pondered aloud, directing my question to Jared. My twin crunched noisily. I turned to see him observing me calmly.

"Don't know, don't care."

Jared had completely calmed down from the killing of the soldier, earlier on at the port. In fact, he acted like nothing happened. After throwing the dead soldier's body into the sea, he had gone below deck for a while, excusing himself from our presence. I knew best to leave him alone; 17 years with that creep had taught me that Jared always handled trauma best by himself.

Yet, I knew that he still wasn't okay.

I mean, it's not everyday you get to kill someone.

I sighed and gazed down at the object nestled in my palm. The circular object sat in my hand, a soft glow emitting from it. The dirty cloth that had earlier been wrapped around it laid discarded on the floor.

To be honest, the circular object was a thing of beauty. It was a translucent, golden ball. Thin, thread-like matters swam about inside the ball, each bright with golden light. They reeled clustered together, making the ball in my hand seem like a yarn of worms.

Yet, it was beautiful.

The thing felt so powerful in my hands, so warm. I clutched it tightly, refusing to let it go.

What in God's name was it?!

I turned away from Jared and looked up at the man at the helm.

"Mr. Sparrow…" I called out, my voice muffling over the wind.

"Captain, love," he answered, grinning at me sheepishly. The yellow light of the lanterns danced on his equally yellow teeth. The night wind whistled bravely at us, pushing the giant sail that flew above us forward. I began to walk towards the helm, my hand still clutching the yellow ball.

"Fine," I replied, "Captain Sparrow."

I ascended the rung that led up to the helm, each step making the wood creak. I reached the top of the stairs and stood diagonally infront of Captain Jack Sparrow. I could smell the stench of rum from him. He paid no attention to me; he kept staring down at his compass.

"Listen," I began, sighing, "I…We really didn't mean to force you to help us."

When the weirdo did not reply, I continued.

"It's just…we were desperate. I really wasn't ready to die and….well, you were our only option. Please, I'm sorry. Here, take back your….um, ball. I'm sorry."

I brought the ball towards him, satisfied with my apology. It was often hard to get an apology out of me so this short yet sincere apology was a feat by itself. The man said nothing and did nothing. He kept his gaze on his compass. After a moment, he spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Up close, it was obvious that he was handsome. I looked down at a resting Jared and then back at the Captain.

"What?"

"Your possession of the ball is the only thing that's keeping me from killing you."

"Really?"

"And that I need a crew…for now."

"You don't have your gun. You can't kill us if you wanted to."

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love. Nothing is impossible."

I said nothing and brought the ball back to me. It shimmered in the yellow light. For a while, a comfortable silence echoed over us. I stood still, watching the strange man in front of me with wonder. Finally, I asked.

"If you're a Captain, where's your ship? Cause I'm pretty sure this ain't it."

"I lost it."

"You…lost…your…ship?"

"Aye."

"How…How on earth can anyone lose a ship? I mean its giant! To lose your-.."

"Lad, does she always talk this much?" Captain Sparrow called out to Jared below, waving his hand in his weird manner. Jared looked up from his rest and nodded his head, grinning. He seemed to be toying about with the Captain's gun. I glared at him and then turned to the weirdo.

"So...you're not a captain?"

"I am."

"You have no ship. No ship equals to no captain."

"Listen, love," he said, turning to glare at me, "I _had_ a ship. A real ship."

His eyes became misty as he spoke, as if he was daydreaming of his ship. Kind of pathetic if you ask me.

"A real ship?"

"A real ship."

I looked at him curiously, still clutching the ball in my hand. His gaze dropped to the ball before lifting up once more towards the ocean. I opened my mouth to speak, paused and then began.

"So where's this ship of yours?" I asked sarcastically.

"Taken."

"By whom?"

"My old first mate."

I jumped up onto the banister in front of the helm unglamorously and sat down, dropping the ball into my lap. He gazed at me with humour and then focused back on the ocean.

"So…you are Captain with no ship?"

"I have a ship."

"Right. It's just being _borrowed_ by your old first mate."

"Aye."

I rolled my eyes in defeat. Captain-you know, I'm just going to call him Mr. Sparrow- was just like any other man; persistently refusing to admit defeat. I ignored him for a second and turned to look at my brother. Alright…he was definitely playing with the gun.

I gazed down at the golden ball in my lap. It glowed gently against my dark pants. I lifted it up with my right hand.

"Soooo…what's the deal with this?" I asked Mr. Sparrow, drawing his attention. He looked at me weirdly for a while. Then he answered.

"It's a payment."

"Payment for what?"

"For a new ship and crew."

He noticed my confusion and explained more.

"Hid it away behind t'at brick the last time I was in that cell. For Safe-keepin'. Goin' to trade it in with ol'd Seadog."

"Who-.."

"An old friend of mine...you'll like h'm, love."

The wind cried stronger. I brushed back my flying hair and raised another eyebrow at him. This man was beyond strange.

"No," I shook my head, "I mean, what is it?"

This is where he stopped and finally turned to look at me. A strange smile lit his face.

"That, love, is _Verdad de el Corazon_."

I looked at him, completely puzzled.

"Say what?!"

He walked from behind the helm towards me. I clenched the ball nearer to my breast as he approached me, stopping just right in front of me.

"The Spaniards found it, many years back," he explained, pressing his forefinger and thumb together in front of my face, "That is what they named it. _Verdad de el Corazon_."

It took me awhile to realize that it was Spanish. Since my Spanish suck-eth…

"HUH?!"

"It means, love," his voice had dropped into a sexy rumble, "Truth of the Heart."

I gazed down at the ball in wonder. Mr. Sparrow's words lingered in the air softly, haunting me. The ball glowed gently still, the threads that glowed in it wavering gently.

"What?"

"It helps you tell what really lies in the heart of men."

I raised an eyebrow and stared at it. What was this…a lie detector? I fidgeted the ball in my hands, still staring at it.

"You mean…it can tell me if someone's words speak truth??" I asked softly, still gazing at the ball. Mr. Sparrow was too close for comfort.

"No, love. It tells you what the heart really desires."

The wonder of the moment froze me. This thing…in my hands…

I bowed my head low and whispered the next words.

"Is…Is it magic?"

"Everything is, love. When you look at it," he replied, an uncanny twinkle in his eyes. The wind whistled softly now, a song in my ear. A chill crept up my spine and goose bumps bubbled up my skin, making me blush for no reason.

Magic. God, life was strange.

I looked up to say something when a loud snap of gunfire echoed throughout the silent night.

I yelped and turned around.

Jared stood in the center of the deck, gun aimed carelessly at the floor. In the wooden floorboard, just an inch from his foot, was a bullet hole. He stood there, a look of horror upon his face.

"Umm…sorry?"

Mr. Sparrow charged down the steps towards the sun deck, cursing away. His feet banged loudly against the wood. I chased him from behind.

"Oh all sea'icking fleas…slime-belly rotti'…you just wasted a perfectly good bullet!" he yelled at Jared. He grabbed at the pistol out of the stunned Jared's hands to check on his ammo.

"Wait, Jared! Don't-…"

It was too late. Captain Jack Sparrow suddenly turned the snatched pistol around and onto Jared, who, by the way, I still curse. He looked completely taken back as I hit my head in defeat.

I hate Jared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Don't you dare shoot him!" I screamed, my curls pulling back against the wind. Jared stood paralysed, his face as pale as a ghost's. The Captain kept his gun trained on my brother, a grin playing on his lips.

"Didn't I not tell ye, luv," he smirked at me, his yellow teeth glinting, "Nothing's impossible for Captain Jack Sparrow."

A teardrop of sweat rolled down the side of Jared's face. His eyes were drawn wide open with fear and his pink tongue licked his lips nervously.

"He did nothing to you!" I shrieked back, practically jumping in anger. I wanted to squeeze his filthy neck.

"Nothing?!" the Captain slurred, waving his free hand about, "Ye blackmailed me, held me hostage by me own gun and then force me to commandeer dis rat-ass ship! And ye say nothing! Nothing! Ye, lass, have ye head screwed on backwards!"

"You were going to steal the ship anyway," I argued, rolling my eyes.

"It doesn't matter anyway," the captain turned back to Jared, eyes sparkling, "It only takes two men to steer dis ship and honestly, mate, I rather have de pretty lady then to you."

He turned around and cocked an eyebrow, a disgusting leer on his face.

"She would satisfy me more, now would ye lass?"

"TOUCH ME AND I"LL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!"

"Well, I always like me lass to have a bit of fire in her," he replied, displaying his dreadfully ugly, yellow teeth. I flicked him the finger; I don't think he understood what it meant for he raised an eyebrow and stared back at me, puzzled. Jared gulped and then spoke up.

"Listen…all we want is your help," Jared tried to explain, slowly raising his hands above his head in surrender. The Captain's smile grew bigger.

"Haven't I helped ye lot enough?!"

Jared turned to me and as usual, pushing the workload to me.

"Joey, tell him."

I glared at him and sighed.

"You're not going to believe us," I stated, clutching the orb even more tightly. The wind whistled a tune in my ear.

"Try me."

So I told him. The whole story. From the moment in the attic to our meeting of him in the prison cell. The whole time, he kept his gun on Jared, his eyes shifted onto me. His face remained emotionless as I told him the entire story, right from the beginning. After I had finished, he did not say a thing, for at least a minute or two. The silence weighed down on us like an anchor. Then he spoke.

"So….let's pretend that yer not crazy," he said, withdrawing the gun to the side of his body and making us both sigh with relief, "You...um...two are siblings from the future that had been magically transported to…well, here...through a painting in yer house. Then, ye ended up in the bad books of dis…Lord… Thus, resulting in ye beginning trapped in a prison where eventually _I_ come and save ye."

He finished all of this in one breath, his eyes flickering between Jared and I. When he finished, Jared and I said in unison.

"Yes."

He paused there and I couldn't help but add in.

"Except the crazy part. We're not crazy. It's the truth, I swear."

"I'm sure it is, luv,"

At this, he patted his rusty old pistol back into his holster at his waist and reached back. From his belt, he pulled out a small, dirty canteen that looked full. He unscrewed the top and gulped down its contents, red liquid sloshing down his jaw. After a long drink, he pulled away with a happy grin and handed the canteen to us.

"Here ye go, mate. And ye too, lass. Take a drink," he grinned, the fresh smell of rum coming at us in waves. I screwed up my face in disgust; it's not that I don't like alcohol. I actually love drinking a lot. Back home, I was always ending up drunk on Saturday nights, drunk from the wild parties our small town had to offer. I loved alcohol. But, I wasn't going to start sharing my drinks with a filthy pirate.

"No thanks," my brother spoke for us, his face showing equal disgust.

"De rum's good," the Captain encouraged, "Helps ye forget and stop hallucinating about all…de…ye, know…"

"We're not hallucinating," I argued fiercely, scowling at him, "We really are from the future!"

The Captain took another gulp from his canteen before turning away from us.

"Suit ye'self," he slurred as he wandered his way back up to the helm, grinning away.

Jared and I watched silently as Captain Sparrow sauntered up the steps and towards the wheel. He walked funny, as he usually did, with his hands waving about in front of him as if he was mad.

"Bloody pirate," I cursed under my breath, glaring up at the Captain. Jared nodded in agreement.

"Soooo…" he began, "Do you think he believed us?"

"Of course not!" I hissed back at him, my face reddening, "He thinks we're hallucinating, remember?!"

Jared remained silent for awhile, staring down at the bullet hole that he had made in the ground. He rubbed it with the toe of the shoe.

"Then," he broke the silence, "What do we do? How we're supposed to get back now, Joe?"

I gave out a sigh. I had no answer. The wind was beginning to chill me and the rocking of the ship seemed to be getting faster. I wrapped my hands around my orb and tried to hug myself warm. It didn't work.

"I don't know, Jared," I muttered back, "I don't know. Right now, I'm just glad that we're both alive."

With that, I left my brother on the deck, descending into the cabins below. Each step creaked under my boots. I felt Jared's gaze on me as I entered the Captain's cabin, the wind moaning as I shut the door. Warmth flooded me but it was empty warmth; it was not like the warmth of home. Ignoring the elaborate designs of the cabin, I kicked off my shoes and sank into the warm bed, the mattress soft as feathers. The smooth cloth kissed my skin gently, the warmth seeping into me, snuggling my tired bones.

I crept under the covers and hugged the magic orb closed to my chest. Its warmth was delicious. I peered down at it, at its golden colours.

It was beautiful. So beautiful.

Holding it close to my face, I found myself whispering.

"Show me. Show me what I desire the most."

The golden, moving threads that glistened inside the orb began to separate. The orb vibrated gently in my hands, like a cat purring at its owner. Sparkles and gold light illuminated from the sphere, its colours washing over my face tranquilly. I gaped as the warmth that emitted from the orb grew in strength, slightly burning my skin.

It _was_ magic.

The orb began to become clear as a picture began to form. The light faded slightly as the image began to take shape, a clear vision in the gold-tinted orb.

My father's face emerged out of the globe, his smile beautiful and contented. His sandy-coloured hair toppled over the side of his face, giving him a youthful expression. His brown eyes glistened back at me, the golden flecks shining brightly against the light. Then, beside him, I saw Johnny. My other brother. His fringe was cut short just above his eyebrows, that handsome smile irresistibly gorgeous. His blue eyes laughed back at me merrily as he waved through the globe, his dimples showing.

My family. That's what my heart truly wanted.

But, they were gone. Definitely gone. And even though, if one day, we did manage to return to our world, they wouldn't be there.

For they were gone.

Forever.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

A tear rolled down my cheek as my heart panged.

The truth always hurts.

**Hey! Thanks to all who have given me reviews! Please review the story, you guys, so that I can make improvements! I have to ****apologise**** about my Spanish; I am definitely not a native speaker of the language and had to Google it to get those words. Therefore, I deeply ****apologise**** to all those who I have insulted with my Spanish. THANKS!  
**


	10. Sodom and Gomorrah

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Hey guys! I just wanted to give a physical description of the two main OCs.**

**Joey: Hair: light brown, curly, long**

**Eyes: Chocolate brown**

**Skin: tanned**

**Extra: tall, slim.**

**Jared: Hair: light brown, spiky, short**

**Eyes: Baby blue**

**Skin: tanned**

**Extra: well-built, tall**

**Chapter 9**

**Sodom and Gomorrah **

In most of the movies I had watched as a child, the pirates were always the heroes. Okay….maybe not the heroes. Maybe, they were the self-conflicting individuals who fought the British navy, buried treasure on desolated islands and had a habit of replacing their limbs with twigs.

Overall, pirates were the fantasy of every little boy.

However, this was not the movies.

Tortuga was a hell mouth of spit. The lowest of life leeched onto the filthy streets, vomit and blood splattered against the sidewalk like paint. The roads were made of thick mud, the sludgy boulevards sucking against the soles of boots. Dirty men littered the streets; some sprawled over drunk-dead while others were fist fighting in drunken stupor. Pale-faced women with excessive make-up and spilling cleavages accompanied them, fondling, groping and doing much worse to their pathetic pirates. Savage music trumpeted throughout the port, the drunken fools dancing and smashing windows to the beat. Shrill screams tore through now and again, but everyone was too drunk or too stupid to notice.

"This place is cursed," I hissed, imitating the guy from the movie 'The Mummy Returns'. Beside me, Jared rolled his eyes.

"This place isn't cursed, Joe," Jared grunted in disgust, swerving aside to avoid a tumbling pair of fist-fighters, "It's disgusting!" His face screwed up as he gazed at his surroundings.

"Nay, mate," Captain Jack Sparrow called back to us, "Dis place is de good life!" He walked freely among the drunkard idiots, sauntering about in his odd manner. He easily ducked a flying man; a nearby brawl had sent a man soaring in the air, having being flung by the other party.

"Oh, he's definitely in his element," I whispered into Jared's ear, drawing a sigh from him The sky above was pitch black, the firelight from the pirate haven casting out the blinking stars. Angry, red clouds gathered in the east, promising rain; maybe a gale of rain could wash the filth away from this place.

Hey, a girl could dream.

It had taken 2 days for us to sail here, to this shit hole. Captain Sparrow had navigated us all the way through, and somehow, by some miracle, our sorry-ass ship had prevailed till the end. The weather had been blissful, thankfully, and we met with no other ship until….well, until at the port.

I sighed and cautiously wrapped my arms around my chest. Despite the tropic weather, the night was chilly. A cold wind bustled at us, like a wave of cool water. It pressed my -ok, not exactly mine- loose shirt against my bandaged wound, tickling the sore spot. I hoped that there was no infection, or, as I had said earlier, I would be in a lot of trouble in this dung of a century. In front of us, the Captain reached down and pulled out a bottle of rum from the grasp of a drunkard who was asleep on the road. I rolled my eyes.

Bloody pirate.

"Hey!" I called to him, flipping my brown hair behind my shoulders, "where we're going?!" He just grinned at me and said nothing, sipping away at his newly-acquired bottle of rum. I began to drag my feet against the grimy floor.

"You know, "Jared whispered in my ear, "I can't help but wonder why he hasn't killed us yet. I mean, he doesn't even believe us. He thinks we're crazy!" I looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Do you _want_ to get killed?"

"No!"

"Then? We're alive, Jared! CELEBRATE!" I threw my arms into the air to illustrate my point, a flinging arm slamming into the jaw of a drunken pirate. At my hit, he fell down to the mud and didn't stand again.

"Ummm….Jared…"

"C'mon, Joe!" my brother grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the crime scene, his grasp hard and cold. I gave the fallen man another look before turning around to follow the Captain, who was swerving his way through the filthy crowd.

Tortuga was the18th century Sodom and Gomorrah.

Hey God, can you hear me? It's me, Joe. If you are really there, please send stones of fire, floods and horrid plagues down on this damned city. Thank you.

Captain Jack Sparrow finally stopped in front of dirty-looking, two-storey building. People filed into the front door, the building's windows brightly lighted. From inside, loud music crashed about, the smashing of glass and shouts of drunkards joining in the melody. Hanging above the front door and flapping in the wind was a green-painted, wooden sign that read, "The Virgin Lady." Below those words was a very crude painting of a woman, scantily dressed.

Talk about irony; I'm willing to bet that no one in there was a virgin.

"We're not going in there!" Jared growled at the captain, his brows scrunching together. His lips were drawn in a thin line. I don't why but he suddenly wanted to very clean.

"I don't really care, lad," the Captain answered us with a smirk, then, tipping his hat, he disappeared into the building. Jared sulked as he watched the empty space angrily. He leaned against one leg.

"I'm not going in there," he said again, face red. I shrugged and walked towards the door. My boots felt heavy.

"I don't know about you, Jared, but I need a drink."

With that, I walked in.

"The Virgin Lady" was a greasy, good-for nothing pub, much like the land it sat on. It was packed with half-baked pirates and call girls, all of whom were, at the very least, slightly drunk. Brawls happened at every corner, people flying above our heads and rolling on the filthy floor. Laughter rang through the air, along with that music. The bar stood at the end of the room, the bartender dirty with sweat. The place smelled foul, the lingering odor of rum, blood, sweat and urine pushing bile up my throat. Seriously, I would have puked.

Jared trailed behind me; he had decided to enter after all. With his hands tucked in his pockets and his eyes watching his surroundings warily, we followed Captain Jack Sparrow through the throng. We squeezed our way through the smelly crowd of hookers and pirates; I swore that if anyone so much as touched me, I'll kill them.

The Captain walked all the way to the end of the room, walking in his funny manner. He then finally stopped in front of a small table at the corner of the room, a piece of furniture tucked in the dark quite cozily. Sitting at that table was a small, pudgy-looking man. Like everyone else in the pub, he was tanned as the sun. His jaw was covered in an unruly beard, which was whitening with age. He sipped something out of a dirty, black mug; his sleek, oily hair was pulled back into a tiny ponytail.

"Mr. Gibbs!" Captain Jack Sparrow helloed as he lifted a leg and slammed it down on the chair just opposite of the man. The cubby guy looked up in surprise then, with a grunt, charged to his feet, stuttering.

"C-Captain?"

The captain showed off his spangling gold teeth and reached forward to place his orange hand on the plump's man shoulder. The man-Mr. Gibbs- gaped back at him, cheeks trembling.

"Aye, Gibbs," the captain croaked, patting the shoulder slightly, "I see you've been doing well for yeself." His thighs, all of sudden, hit the wooden table slightly, spilling the mug of beer onto the wood. Yet, neither man cared; they hadn't even noticed the spilled beverage. Mr. Gibbs just as suddenly put on a grin, laughing.

"Jack!" he laughed, grasping the captain's hand tightly and shaking it, "Ye…I never taught I'll see ye again! I mean, after ye stole Harry's boat, I thought…"

"What?" Captain Sparrow raised an eyebrow, leaning back, "What ye thought? That I just let Barbossa take me Pearl away?" He grinned grimly at the man.

In the stuffy, crowded pub, he was already beginning to sweat, fat drops rolling down the side of his face. He pinched his finger tips and held it in front of himself.

"The fight ain't over, mate. The Pearl is mine, only mine. And I pledge, on dem forsaken Turner's soul, I'm getting it back."

Mr. Gibbs threw a fist into the air in triumph and laughed again, displaying his yellow teeth. Dimples played on his cheek.

"AYE!" he shouted over the loud music, "Finally! We're getting the Pearl back! And then, the….

"The Fountain," the Captain finished for him, grinning away.

"Aye, the Fountain," Mr. Gibbs agreed, eyes wide with fascination.

"What the heck are you two talking about?!" I practically shrieked, interrupting the two pirates' get-together. Honestly, I didn't care for them. I was cold, tired and very, very hungry; all I wanted to do was to take shower, eat some pork and get to bed. These two idiot's ramblings did not make things any better.

The two pirates jumped at my shout, turning towards Jared and I. Mr. Gibbs eyes widened at the sight of us.

"Hey Jack. Who-…"

"Aye, forgive me, mates," he grinned, swinging his arms about. He motioned at his friend and beamed at us.

"Lad and my lass, meet me first mate, Mr. Gibbs."

He then did a vice-versa, turning on his hips to point at us.

"Gibbs, meet the two crazies who keep following me around," his golden teeth glinted at this, his dark eyes flashing.

"Am not!" I defended, quite immaturely if you ask me. An old man with a peg for an arm watched from the other corner. Jared was still scowling.

Unlike those goddamn navy soldiers back at Port Royal, Mr. Gibbs saw no concern with a female in male's clothes. He didn't double-back, gawk or even put me in jail. In fact, no one since Port Royal had questioned my pants, even with my sandy curls spilling over my breasts. Honestly, I think Lord Errol was right; girls in pants _must_ be pirates.

Wait a second…does that make me a pirate? I mean, I haven't looted any ship nor found any treasure. I'm not a pirate…..yet….

Does hanging out with a pirate make me one too?! Jesus Christ, what kind of shit have I gotten myself into?!

"Jack," Mr. Gibb's husky voice threw me out of my daydreams, "I don't understand. How ye came to know 'em? I thought that ye went to get the Verdad…"

"I did. The lass has it, "Captain Sparrow explained, pointing a lazy finger at my bulging pants pocket; I had hidden the Verdad de el Corazon in my oversized pocket. With a grin, Captain Sparrow commented.

"I needed a crew."

With that, Captain Jack Sparrow sat down and began to tell his first mate the entire story, excluding the part of us 'believing' we're from the future, for some reason. Mr. Gibbs sat down opposite him, moth open and ignoring the beer that was dripping through the table and onto his pants. Jared and I stood as we were, standing before the table. My legs ached from all the walking and working but I wasn't about to pull up a chair and join those two pirates with a mug of beer. I'm not about to become chummy with these sea thieves.

Oh, who am I kidding?!

Ignoring a scowling Jared, I turned around and headed to the bar.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I though you said that your first mate stole your ship?" I muttered to Captain Jack Sparrow as we shuffled down the crowded streets. The wind reeked of burning wood and musty perfume, the chimneys coughing out black smoke above our heads. Prostitutes lined the walls of the damp street, their colourful and elaborate dresses flaunting patches of white-powdered skin. They called at us as we passed, cooing lustfully at Jared and our companions. A couple of drunkards danced past us, singing in joy.

"Aye, lass," the captain glanced at me with those dark eyes, lips smiling, "Mr. Gibbs is me first mate. But it was me other first mate, Barbossa, that stole me ship. Stole me Pearl."

"Pearl?" I inquired, rubbing my hands together and puffing warm breath between them. Behind us, Mr. Gibbs and Jared talked away, voices hushed. The night was late yet the moon did not peek down at us from above; it was missing in action.

"My ship, lass," Captain Sparrow turned away from me to gaze cheekily at the women that surrounded us, "Me _Black Pearl_. The finest and fastest ship in all of the Caribbean." He patted his hat unconsciously as his eyes wandered about, yellow teeth winking. The cold numbed until my bones, the chilly wind kissing my skin gently.

"Whoa, whoa, wait! How many first mates does a pirate need again?" I held up my hands, cocking an eyebrow. My voice drowned out the other two behind me.

The Captain turned an irrated face at me; His hands went down to his black belt-holster.

"Luv, has anyone told ye ye're annoying?" he asked. A wind blew.

"Well, yes," I replied, folding my arms across my chest, "Everyone always says that. They always say that I talk too much, too much for my own good. In fact, there was this one time-…"

"We're here!" Mr. Gibbs' voice interrupted me, catching me off guard. Stopping in my tracks, I spun around to look at the face of the wall on our right.

In front of me, imbedded in front of a tall building with dark shutters was a long, wooden door. It stood two meters high, the mahogany wood rotting at its hinges. A little closed opening in the door lay at eye level, its edges bordered with nails. Jared shuffled away from an incoming call girl to stand directly behind me.

"Well, here we are, "he murmured into my right ear.

I didn't reply.

"Jack," Mr. Gibbs spoke, running his fat hand over his dark hair, "Maybe dis ain't de best idea."

"Nonsense!" Captain Sparrow leaned back a little and then strides towards the door. He hit his brown knuckles against the wooden door, making the wood shake and moan. With that, he swerved on his heels and turned back to us, smirking.

"O'ld Seadog and I go way back, mates. Way back, even before ye're was born, luv."

"Oh great," I did an orbital eye roll, "That just shows how freaking old you are."

As the captain opened his mouth to respond, the opening behind his head slided open, making a whooshing sound. Captain Sparrow swung back around at the sound. Peering through the opening was a pair of cold, blue eyes, a jagged scar slashing down across one eye.

"Oh. Hello," the captain grinned back at the icy cold eyes. I gripped my arms tightly.

"What ye want?" a voice cracked harshly behind the door, the eyes scrunching together slightly. A wagon trottled past behind us. A hard whip striking the poor donkey that led it. The smell of smoke tickled my senses. Captain Sparrow cleared his throat.

"Tell Captain Seadog that Jack Sparrow has come to see him." There, he paused and in his dark, beautiful eyes, something moved. Something flickered in those dark pools like a cat with a twitchy tail and ignited in a shroud of flames that danced in the dull firelight like gysies under the wanning moonlight.

Captain Sparrow had a plan.

The pair of blue eyes began to shift away from the door, still glareing when the Captain's voice made it stop in its tracks.

"Oh, and tell ye're captain that I come with payment, hey sav'vy?" the captain said, grining like there was no tomorrow. He hooked his thumbs at the bridge of his belt.

The cold, blue eyes stared back for awhile and then, with what seemed like a muffled sigh, pulled back. The shutters over the opening then snapped shut, joining wood back to wood.

"Alright then!" Jared clapped his hands together, swinging his arms, "Time to go!" He turned around to walk back down the street but Mr. Gibbs stopped him, yanking him back by his collar.

"Not so fast, lad," Mr. Gibbs said, my brother staggering backward at his pull, "Give 'im time. Seadog always takes his time to make decisions." My twin sorely nodded in reply and stood where he was. With a slight smirk, I turned back to the Captain.

"What payment are you talking about?" I queried, cocking an eyebrow high to my hairline. A pretty, blonde prostitute sauntered her way towards us, cooing, but Mr. Gibbs waved her away (surprisingly.)

"Jack owes Old Seadog money," Mr. Gibbs explained, half -murmuring to me. He tucked his chubby hands into his pant's pocket.

"Ohhh…." I smirked back at the captain, pushing my hands onto my hips, "So the pirate borrowed from a pirate. How bloody noble." Captain Sparrow glared at me and was about to comment when the tall wooden door behind him pulled open, thick smoke billowing out from within. It creaked as it pulled open, firelight washing through the opening. Standing in the gap between the door and the wall was a tall, muscular man. His long, black hair clung to the nape of his neck as thick droplets of sweat rolled down his pale skin (I wondered why, in this frigid cold weather.) A pair of icy blue eyes pierced through us like a sharp blade.

Without a word, the man pulled the door open even more widely and stepped back, gesturing for us to enter. A weak wind swept over us once again, making my blood chill. A piercing scream tore through the night, followed by the loud bangs of pistols. Somewhere, in one of the houses nearby, a baby cried.

God, I hate this town.

With a shudder, I followed Captain Sparrow inside, into the smoldering smoke and into the heart of Captain Seadog's den.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Compared to the outside world, where the chill of the sea had crept into the sea town as fingers of mist and the wind of the ocean had crashed down on all like a hammer, Seadog's cavern was blissfully hot.

Giant, burbling cauldrons of burning logs were stationed at each corner of the hall, billows of smoke pouring out of their gaping mouths. Cinder ashes as hot and red as the sun danced to the floor while the black, vulgar smoke climbed to the ceiling, darkening the world above my head. A fire tucked neatly in a small fireplace at the center of the room added to the heat, the gentle flame casting shadows in ember onto the wooden floor.

Circumferencing the room were pirates. Dirty, half-drunk pirates. They lounged about on long, cushy chairs, laughing crudely with long pipes sticking out of their lips. Prostitutes surrounded them as well, laughing in their shrill voices, their dyed hair clipped neatly above their heads. Soft music played in the background, a lively tune that sounded folk than…um…pirate. Smoke stings my eyes as my nose inhaled the sweet smell of opium.

Sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by pretty women was a large, bald man. He was as tanned as the fire that surrounded him, his glassy green eyes wide and huge. He was a fat man, whose huge belly stuck out of his green shirt and over the ridge of his pants. Rings of dirt adorned his chubby neck, his flabby arms draped around the waist of a skinny brunette. His cheeks were red and ruddy, the twin pieces of flesh hanging over his jawbone and down his neck. Covering most of his rotund face was a thick, dirty-blonde beard that dripped with sweat; his bald head was shiny with sweat as well. He laid against a red couch, hands on the prostitutes and a long, smoking pipe sticking out of his mouth.

He was by far the filthiest man I had ever seen.

Well, except for Captain Sparrow of course.

"What _is_ this place?" I whispered into Mr. Gibbs' ear, cupping my hand over my nose; I sure as hell did not want to breathe in the toxic air. Behind us, the tall man with pale blue eyes shut the wooden door, trapping the heat and blocking the cold out.

I suddenly felt like a trapped animal.

"Captain Seadog's opium den," Mr. Gibbs replied back in a low voice, trailing slowly behind Captain Sparrow deeper into the room, "Old Seadog's always been good friends with de Chinese pirates down at Singapore. Gets dem opium for cheap, yes he does! Lucky bastard if you ask me!" I cocked an eyebrow at him while Jared snorted in annoyance behind me. I knew my brother better then anyone else and I can always read him like a book; he was fed-up with pirates.

Hey, at least we finally have something in common!

"Captain Sparrow!" the man in the middle of the room suddenly blurted me out of my thoughts, his voice low and slurry. In front of me, Sparrow grinned back at us, his gold teeth glinting in the firelight. Jabba the Hut-he looked just like that fat alien in Star Wars-stretched out his feet as he grinned in our direction. With a chubby hand, he withdrew the opium pipe from his mouth, trailing silvery treads of saliva. The other pirates around him continued on with their business with the ladies but kept one eye on their Captain, in case of trouble. The blue-eyed man who had opened the door for the others and I had receded back into the shadows. I coughed and my eyes began to water.

"Seadog!" Captain Sparrow replied, sauntering foreword to the big man, "How ye been?"

"Aye, mate, well!" Seadog laughed out, drool splattering all over his shirt. He reached back with a fat palm and scratched his butt unglamorously. The ladies on the couch watched us curiously. Some of the pirates on a nearby seat guffawed away, their laughter savage and cruel. The hot smoke pressed down on us, suffocating us in a blanket of heat. Sweat rolled down my back.

Captain Seadog leaned his head on the couch as his eyes did a lopsided roll. The ladies beside him cooed and played with his beard. Jared leaned in close behind me and whispered in my ear.

"High?" he nodded his head at the older pirate who was lopped over the couch.

"Oh yeah," I grinned back most maliciously; there was no doubting how high on opium Seadog was. Beside us, Mr. Gibbs glared at us to be silent. Back at the main couch, Captain Seadog readjusted himself and gazed at Captain Sparrow with glassy eyes.

"Last I heard, Jack," Seadog slurred, grinning at the younger pirate in front of him, "Ye stole Harry's boat."

"Borrowed," Sparrow insisted, grinning slyly, "I merely borrowed his boat."

At this, Captain Seadog laughed out again, his laughter short and gaspy. There was just something about him that I disliked, something that made my senses go on red-alert. I shuffled closer to my brother, not really caring if he liked me being so close or not. The heat from the burning cauldrons was enough to drive me mad; Ironically, I now wished for the cold of the outside wind.

"Y-ye…Hoho, Jack! Borrowed!" Seadog laughed, snorting as he did, "Borrowed! Always the joker, Jack! Always!" Here, he reached over to the table in front of him and dragged a full bottle of rum towards him; seriously, what is with pirates and rum?!

"Borrowed! Just like how Tia Dalma used to call ye, Witty Jack! Haha, very witty! Witty Jack!" he chugged down a gulp of rum, casting aside his pipe. His crew carried on with their talk but one closest to his Captain kept a sharp watch on us. The ladies were silent.

"Witty Jack…wait, who the heck is Tia Dalma?" Jared whispered in Mr. Gibbs ear as Seadog carried on his little performance for Sparrow. My brother crossed his arms across his chest somewhat protectively, his eyes still kept on Seadog.

"She was a witch, living near the slumps not far from here," Mr. Gibbs whispered back, his breath hot and laced with rum. Sweat dripped down the side of his pudgy face.

"Witch?"

"Aye, lad," the first mate nodded as he leaned closer to us, "She was. That is… until not too long ago, when she was released from her from the prison of her human body and then turned back to her original form as Calypso, Goddess of the Sea." He spoke with such seriousness, his face hard and emotional except for a flicker of worry in his eyes.

"Goddess-of-the-sea…." My brother said slowly, breaking each word up.

"Wow, pirates _are_ loony!" I commented in return, arching both eyebrows.

"Listen lass-…" Mr. Gibbs began with a scowl but the sudden dying of the other pirates chatter and the muting of the music interrupted him, stirring his head back to the middle of the room. Smoke swirled above his head.

Captain Seadog a.k.a Jabba the Hut had arisen, standing on his thick legs. All eyes in the room were on him as the famous pirate dragged himself off the seat clumsily, pulling his opium pipe to his lips. His glazed eyes had suddenly become clear and the lopsided grin he had just won but a few minutes ago was replaced by a much colder grin. I couldn't help but marvel at the sudden transformation. To his left and right, his pirates were silent, their hookers for the night joining in the hush. There, in that inferno of an opium den, a chill crept over me.

"Me good man Tom tells me ye're brought me payment," he smoked his pipe, a puff of white cloud whispering out of the pipe's opening. He spoke this to Captain Sparrow, who stood with a smile but two meters from him. Sparrow's grin widened in reply as he unhooked his thumbs from his belt and leaned backwards lazily, against some invisible wall. The plan blossomed in his eyes. Jared coughed.

"Don't worry, mate," Sparrow replied, flinging his arms, "I got ye payment. In fact, more then the borrowed amount, actually." As Seadog's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Captain Sparrow turned side long back to us and waved at tanned hand.

"Love, come here," he called at me, yellow teeth glinting. The fires from the cauldrons reflected in his dark eyes.

"No way," I retorted, folding my hands across my chest. If he thinks that I'm going to be part of Seadog's payment, I swear I'll-

"The ball, love," Captain Sparrow said, slight impatient in his voice, "Bring it here." Then, realization dawned on me. With wide eyes, I reached down into my pocket and pulled out the glowing Verdad de el Corazon, heat kissing my palm. It shined like the sun, the golden threads swimming about sleepily. At the sight of the ball, everyone in the room sprang to their feet, gaps of surprise feeling the air. Some cursed in surprise while others ran to their captain, eyes widened in disbelief. The silent room became noisy, the pirates alive and all of a sudden, no longer high on opium.

"Captain! Do ye not see this? It is-…"

"Unbelievable, sir! It's supposed to be lost forever!"

"Never in all me years, in all of the Flying Dutchman's-…"

"VERDAD!" Seadog's voice drowned out the others, his attention full on Sparrow. His eyes were widened to an unbelievable extent as drool splattered against the floor at his last word.

"Aye," Sparrow replied calmly, somehow silencing the men in the room with his words, "Verdad." He held up a hand parallel to his shoulders, fingers curled inwards. Taking my cue, I strode towards him and rather regretfully, placed the golden orb in his hands. His tanned fingers clenched it and pulled the warmth away from me; the warmth was still desirous despite the hot air in here. Yielding the globe in front of him and staring back at the throng of surprised pirates, he smirked at them.

"I want to make a deal."

Bloody hell, he copied my line!

"What deal?" one of the faceless pirates queried but Captain Seadog waved his comment away, eyes bulged out like an insect.

"How on earth did ye find it, Jack?" he questioned, cheeks trembling and ignoring Sparrow's statement, "It was supposed to be long gone….I've searched everywhere-…"

"Aye, mate," Captain Sparrow nodded his head, his black braids brushing against one another, "Ye did. Ye only forgot to search de most obvious places….but all of that does not matter now." He playfully bounced the Verdad in his hand, the pirates' heads bobbing along with it. Their faces were etched with unbelief, astonishment. The women that surrounded them watched too with shock, their once open mouth silent and their usually merry faces, stoned. Sweat dribbled down my face as I slowly backed towards my brother and Mr. Gibbs, suddenly very wary of the heaviness of my footsteps. Upon reaching them, Jared gripped my arm and held me back, refusing to let me go.

After what seemed like forever, Captain Seadog finally spoke.

"A deal, ye say?"

"Aye," Sparrow grinned triumphantly, "A deal."

"And what would that deal be, mate?"

"The Verdad in exchange of the clearing of me debt and ye're ship."

At this, all the pirates in the room burst out in laughter, their voices deep, low and harsh. They bent over and slapped their knees, clutching their stomach as if Sparrow had just told the most excellent joke. Seadog laughed too, his glassy green eyes sparkling alight and his face, lighting up. The hookers laughed too, in their shrill giggles. Smoke pressed down on all of us.

"Ye're joking, aren't ye're Jack?" Seadog burst out, still laughing. I had no idea why they all found it terribly funny; I didn't. Brushing back his snaky black hair, Mr. Gibbs gulped.

"Nay mate," was Sparrow's only answer, his voice taking on a sudden seriousness. Despite the change in his voice, his face still wore that smug, self-indulging smile. At Sparrow's answer, the pirates' laughter diminished into a lull. Seadog too stopped smiling and seriousness returned to his face once again. A singular pirate who was still laughing away at the back of the room had his head whacked by another of his fellow shipmates. The heat pulsed against me in waves.

"Wait, wait, wait," Seadog shook his shiny head, "Let me get this clear….Ye want to trade the Verdad as ye're payment as well as for me ship?! Me _Betty_?!" A murmur of disgruntlement echoed throughout the crowd. One pirate, a tall, muscular African fellow withdrew his long, blood-rusted sword from his holster.

"The Verdad alone exceeds me payment of 30 gold pieces to ye," Captain Sparrow explained, acting as if it was the simplest thing in world by shrugging his shoulders, " Ye're ship would easily compensate the rest of its value."

Seadog's cheeks reddened and just as he was opening his mouth to answer back, a metal door at the side of the room, to my left, pushed opened most suddenly. Most of the pirates jumped at this, due to the tension in the room and all, and turned towards the newly opened door, frowning.

Pushing their way out of the door were two filthy pirates, their hairs disheveled and wet. Some others followed behind them, also wet and messy looking, their cheeks and nose pink from the cold of the outside world.

Wedged in between the first two pirates, trapped like a mouse, was a petite, beautiful girl. Just like the pirates, she was bone wet, her long red hair clinging to her wet back. She wore a long, typical Victorian-era dress, its pink hue somewhat dirtied by soot and dust. Her skin was pale and clear, probably the clearest I had ever seen. Set in her face was a pair of beautiful green eyes, the firelight twinkling in her dark pupils and reflecting the panic that read clearly in those green pools. Her thick, red lips were drawn in a thin line, her lower lip trembling gently. Her long eyelashes fluttered in fear as she, the strange, pretty newcomer, was dragged forth to us, to the center of the room.

Behind me, I saw Jared's face reddened.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Jared had a weakness for beautiful girls.

"We found her, captain," the taller of the two pirates that sandwiched her announced proudly, cocking his head upwards. Now that they were closer, I could see that both pirates had the redhead's arms pinned down by her side.

She was their captive!

In response, as soon as she was within arms length, Captain Seadog turned away from us and with his fatty hand, grabbed the redhead's jaw and pulled her to him. The girl gave out a yelp as Seadog dragged her towards him, her two capturers having released her arms. Behind me, Jared released my elbow and made to go foreword but I stopped him.

"Lady Errol!" Seadog laughed mockingly, squeezing the girl's cheeks with his fatty hand, "What a pleasure it is to meet ye again!" Around him, the pirates chuckled, clearly enjoying themselves. It seemed that momentarily, the Verdad as well as Sparrow were forgotten.

"LET GO!" the redhead managed to squeal as she flapped her now free hands at the bulging figure before her. The pirates' chuckle had blossomed into a loud round of guffaw. Seadog lifted her higher by her jaw, making her tiptoe on her bare feet.

"HAHA," bellowed Seadog, clearly amused, "Let go, do ye say luv? Try to escape, did ye not? Though Ol'd Seadog couldn't find ye, eh?" The prostitutes on the couch laughed away, flipping back their hair. One pirate made to sit back down among the girls but a glare from the African man with the sword made him jump back up.

"Errol?" Captain Sparrow asked coolly, raising an interested eyebrow. His lips wore a playful smirk. Seadog turned his fat head back to Sparrow and grinned in reply.

"Aye, mate," he said, beaming, "Errol! Dis here de precious daughter of de great Lord Errol himself!" At this, he tightened his squeeze of the girl's jaw, making her squeal again. The pirates laughed. I leaned back to my brother and whispered, eyes wide.

"Errol….as in the Lord-put-you-in-prison-just-because-of-your-pants- Errol?!"

Jared did not reply. Instead, his face reddened even more and he clenched his fist together tightly. If this were the comic world, steam would have been jetting out of his ears by now. I moved back slightly and hooked my arm around he's; it's the only thing I could thing of that would calm him down.

"Funny how things turn out, huh luv?" Seadog hissed to his captive, drawing her face nearer to hers. The girl fidgeted and grabbed his massive arms but was too weak to push him off. Glaring back at him, with anger stirring in her greens, she spat.

"My father will have your neck!"

With that, the entire cavern broke out in laughter, Sparrow joining in. Beside us, Mr. Gibbs chuckled nervously. Jared squeezed my arm. I coughed.

I really hate pirates.

All of a sudden, without much warning, Captain Seadog pushed his tongue into the redhead's mouth lustfully, pulling back her hair with his other hand. The girl-Lady Errol- flinched back but she had not the strength to push him away as the filthy, fat pirate kissed her savagely. She tried to scream against his mouth but as his crew hooted out most wickedly, he bit down on her lower lip and pulled back, laughing

Lady Errol cried at the bite and flung herself away, dropping sideways onto the wooden floor with a thud. The room chorused with laughter. Their voices were harsh and cold. It was so sickening. Behind me, Jared made to rush forward, face set in an angry scowl but I tugged him back with my arm, placing my other hand on his chest to hold him back.

"Calm down, Jared," I hissed into his red ear, "Now's not the time to play to play the hero."

"But-…"

"No."

Lady Errol raised her trembling red head from the ground and glared her emerald eyes up at Jabba the Hut. Blood dripped down the center of her lower lip, the red fluid leaking down her pale jaw. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her right hand was clenched in a fist. She turned her gaze from the fat pirate for a second and swept the room with those piercing green eyes. For a moment, those trembling eyes settled on me and something stirred in them.

A thought, perhaps.

Then, she turned back to Captain Seadog, teeth gritting.

As the throng of pirates laughed most maliciously, Captain Seadog turned back to Sparrow, still amused. He wiped a thick hand over his sweaty brow and then creased it off on his dirty shirt.

"Well then, Jack," he grinned at Captain Sparrow as the two pirates who had come in earlier with the redhead came forward and hoisted up the lady roughly, " I say ye're lucky. Young missy Errol here got me back in me good mood!" He slapped his round belly with humour. Captain Sparrow responded with a calm smirk.

Turning back to his pirates, Seadog leered at Lady Errol, who was now held on both sides by the two wet pirates, and ordered his crew.

"Take her to me room. I'll deal with her later."

The crew chuckled at this and Lady Errol was dragged away, through another door at the end of the room. The pirates hooted at her as she passed but the pretty redhead said nothing, cocking her head upward and marching past them with as much dignity as she could muster.

A true lady, might I add.

I can only imagine what Seadog was to do to her.

Beside me, Jared had not simmered down. His face was still as red as a tomato and as he watched Lady Errol being dragged out the room, he muttered something beneath his breath that I couldn't understand. His muscles were tensed.

Finally, Lady Errol left and the door at the back of the room slammed shut. Honestly, my heart went out to her. I brought down my hand from Jared's chest and with a sigh, tugged it into my now empty pocket.

I really hate this century.

"Alright then, Jack," Seadog grinned back at Captain Sparrow, beard dripping with sweat, "Ye won. I'm in good mood ye see…and I'm feeling generous. Alright, I agree to de deal. Ye give me de Verdad and I _loan_ ye're me ship. Loan, heh Jack loan. I expect me _Betty_ back in full condition. No damages, no gun holes… nothin'. I want her back just as I give her to ye. Understood?"

"Understood, savvy." Captain Sparrow replied, his eyes glinting like jewels in the dark.

Something tells me that Seadog was never going to see his dear old _Betty_ again.

**TA-DA! END OF CHAPTER!**

**I would like to apologize to everyone for taking sooooo long to write this chapter! I have been really busy studying for my major exams and I really didn't have the time to write! So sorry! And to all Will Turner fans, I promise-pinky promise!-that I will bring him into the story in Chapter 11.**

**Look out for the next chapter!**

**Thanks and please comment!**


	11. Saving Princess Leia

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs-Joe, Jared, Lady Errol, Seadog and other random people that were never in the movies.**

**I would also like to apologize for an error in the previous chapters. Accidentally, I called Joey's and Jared's brother Jackie!!!! I'm so sorry! Just to reconfirm, Joey and Jared's brother is called JOHNNY, not Jackie! So….yeah…so sorry!**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

**Saving Princess Leia**

I chugged down the last of my beer, the golden liquid gliding down my throat.

_Sigh._

Pure bliss.

The 'Virgin Lady' was still crowded, even though the night had already aged into the twinkling hours of predawn; it was only four hours till sunrise. A fiddler played a chirpy tune in the corner, his bow bent like the whiskers of the grey-coated cat that sat by his feet. The crowd of before, the one of merry singing and drunken follies, had mild down to a mere lull; most of the pirates lay on the floor, drunk-dead. Almost all the hookers had already disappeared for the night, many now leaving for the rooms upstairs with their wasted customers. The fire-lighted chandelier still burned brightly above, accompanying the other hundred fire lamps that surrounded the inn. The place smelled as bad as before, only now there was a hint of the smell of vomit as well.

"That's enough for tonight," Jared reached forward and pulled the now-empty mug out of my hands. I let him take it away. He was right. It _was_ enough. My head was already spinning from all the alcohol and the dry meat that I had eaten with the beer made me want to puke. Besides, I was already feeling a little _too_ happy and knowing me, that's never a good thing.

Still…the beer was _sooo_ good….

"Here ye go," Mr. Gibbs approached the table, hands full with spilling mugs of beer. His ponytail hung loose behind his head, shaking as he walked quickly towards us. He banged the multiple mugs of beer down onto the flat surface of the wooden table, spilling some of its contents.

"More?!" Jared gaped incredulously as Mr. Gibbs took the seat opposite me. His sweaty arm brushed my elbow as he sat down and I did my best not to recoil in disgust. The fiddler began to play even louder.

"Aye, lad," Mr. Gibbs grinned in reply and reached out a pudgy hand to take a glass of beer, "We'll need the strength for the trip. It's a long way we're taking, and me guess is that ye're going to need ye're strength. So drink up, lad." He brought the mug to his lips and gulped down a generous amount of beer. His eyes closed in pleasure and his ruddy cheeks became even redder. A cockroach scurried across the table.

"Right," Jared screwed his face at the older man and pushed the glasses of beer away from his side of the table, "Alcohol is definitely going to give us all the strength we need. At the same time, it'll also help corrode our liver."

"Oh, why does it matter, Jared?" I yawned in reply, sinking my head onto the table top despite the presence of the cockroach, "We're going die anyway. Even if the beer doesn't kill us, this insane adventure will." I breathed out a sigh as I said this and my chest burned, as if on fire. Opposite me, Mr. Gibbs arched a thin eyebrow. The fiddler had changed his tune.

"I wished you stopped being so pessimistic," Jared replied coolly. His voice had once again adopted that disgusting calm tone that he often used to seem like adult, to seem older and more mature. To be honest, this trait only began 2 weeks ago. Before, Jared didn't care about the world. He was the top footballer in school, the most popular jock in campus. He dated hot girls after hot girls, partying away each night and coming home completely wasted in the wee hours of the morning. Dad always had a problem with him, just as he had a problem with me but unlike Jared, my wild antics could never be forgiven.

Maybe it was because of the fact that I was always doing something illegal.

Jared and I had never gotten along and if you have been paying attention to anything that I have been saying over the past three days, you'll know that it is true. Jared is part of the in-crowd; I am not. Jared's friends consists of other jocks and pretty cheerleaders; my best friend, Reed, works part-time at Carl's Junior to pay his house's rent and my other friend, Stevie, had just recently been released from Juvy. Jared loved football; I street-raced for the thrills. Jared had completely changed after Dad's and Jackie's death, becoming more mature and grown-up; I was still me.

We were from parallel universe, each living in co-existence of one another but never really depending on each other. Our lives were separate entities, different beings. We never talked in school, only a respectable nod once and again when we were in the mood. Other then that, nothing. He had his life. I had mine. It was simple.

Yet here we were, depending on each other in a whole different dimension, in a different time zone that was never our own.

Strangers trapped in another world.

"Why on earth do we have to sail off so early in the morning?" Jared broke through my thoughts as he turned to Mr. Gibbs with that whine. The fiddler in the corner had picked up a folksy tune, a sort of jig. Mr. Gibbs had already dried his glass and was heading for another one. He wiped his sweaty mouth with one hand and reached for another mug of beer with the other. I raised my head from the table top and smooth my hair back.

"We can't afford to waste anymore time," Mr. Gibbs explained, bringing the mug of beer to his lips, "The longer we wait, the farther Barbossa gets. We must leave the moment Seadog gets the ship ready."

"To get back Captain Sparrow's ship, right? _Jewel_ of something-…"

"_Pearl_, lad. _Black Pearl_. Aye, that is the plan. Honestly, lad, I have no idea where Barbossa has taken de ship. All we have-"

"What's so bloody important about this ship anyway?" I snapped suddenly, interrupting Mr. Gibbs, "It's just a ship!"

Mr. Gibbs' eyes widened and as he opened his mouth to retort when all of a sudden, a sleek voice answered me instead.

"The _Pearl_ ain't just a ship, love."

Jared, Mr. Gibbs and I wheeled in our seats to see Captain Sparrow trudging down the stairs, down from the rooms above. He wore a lazy grin on his face as he sauntered down, the firelight making his dark eyes twinkle. He carried his hat in his hand, his long dreadlocks falling out of a dirty-looking, red bandana. His other hand busied itself with buttoning up his pants. His golden rings gleamed brightly in the firelight, reflecting dully the images surrounding him. He stepped over the sleeping men on the floor and walked towards us, still grinning. The fiddler had begun to play even more loudly.

Captain Sparrow approached me and placed his large hand on my head.

"Ye see lass," he grinned his yellow teeth down at me, "The _Black Pearl_ ain't just a ship. She's the ocean altogether. Her very being-.."

"Ya, ya. Save it," I interrupted him, swatting away his hand from my head, "Are we ready to go now? Is the ship ready?" At this, Captain Sparrow gave me the same annoyed look as before. I have a feeling he wasn't my biggest fan.

Then again, no one was.

With the same irrated scowl, Captain Sparrow took the seat opposite Jared and placed his hat down on the table top. He reached forward with his long arm and pulled a mug of beer to him, dragging it across the table top and pushing the oblivious cockroach towards him. The ugly brown critter seemed to squeal as it was unintentionally pushed to the edge of the table, tumbling over and down to the floor. Captain Sparrow said nothing. He brought the mug of beer to his lips and drank a mouthful, gulping down with a sigh.

"Captain?" Mr. Gibbs said, putting his mug back down on the table. Across the room, a drunken fool had begun to sing along to the fiddler's music, slurring each word. Sparrow chugged down the last of his drink and cleared his throat.

"Well?!?" I wanted to scream.

"Seadog had just sent his man," Sparrow finally spoke, licking his lips in contentment, "The ship's almost ready."

"Fan-fucking-tastic!" I clenched my fist in triumph as Jared breathed a sigh and grinned a little. It wouldn't be long now before I got a nice little bed to catch some wink-eye on; Sparrow was too much of a cheapo to get me room at the inn. Opposite me, Mr. Gibbs grinned as well.

"Then we're ready to go!" Mr. Gibbs smiled at his captain, his dimples set deep into this face, "Aye, Captain. Now it won't be long before we get back the _Pearl _and then-…"

"The Fountain," Captain Sparrow answered him, eyes glinting like jewels.

"Aye, the fountain," his first mate grinned, cheeks trembling.

"Seriously, dudes!" I yelled, flinging my arms in annoyance. These pirates were the most bloody irritating people I had ever met! As I made to strangle Captain Sparrow, Jared reached over and pushed me back down.

"You have a temper, love. Has anyone told ye?" Captain Sparrow grinned his stained teeth at me, obviously amused once again. This time, I was on my feet. I really wanted to kill him. I have had no sleep since the night before and every muscle in my body was screaming out in weariness. I just wanted to murder something right about now and Sparrow was pretty much in my way. As I reached over to him, Jared stood up as well and grabbed me back by my arm.

"Ignore her," he glared at me, clenching my arm with brute strength as he spoke to the pirates, "She had a little too much to drink."

"But, Ja-…"

He forced me back down to my seat with a hard push and I stumbled down, rather unglamorously. My butt hit the stool and once again, I cursed the day Jared was born. I shrugged my hand out of his grip and turned to glare at Sparrow, jabbing two fingers before my eyes and spinning them around to jab in Sparrow's direction; the 'I'm-watching-you' sign. Sparrow just grinned at me.

"Alright, alright," Jared frowned, still on his feet, "Enough. Can we go now?" He smoothed down his shirt and backed away his chair, all-ready to walk off and leave for the ship. He cracked his knuckles and stretched his biceps, yawning a little. On the other side of the room, the drunkard had started doing a little dance as he sang, quite horribly, to the fiddler's tune. The door to the inn shuffled open and a pair of pirates dragged themselves in, a cold draft sweeping into the pub.

"No," Sparrow looked up at Jared slightly and then reached for another mug of beer. Jared's eyebrows shot up to his hairline but he said nothing. Without so much as a wince, he sank back down to his seat, a look of slight irritation playing on his handsome face.

"Why the fuck not?" I gritted through my teeth, clenching my fist as I glared at the pirate. Opposite me, Mr. Gibbs wore a look of confusion.

Captain Sparrow paused here and took a long drag of his drink. He chugged, chugged and chugged until finally, his beer was gone. With a sigh and a lick of his lips, he placed the mug back down on the table.

"Cause, love," He finally spoke, grinning slightly at me, "Ye and ye brother over here have something ye need to do for me."

"And what might that be?" I growled, forcing myself to calm down and not kill him. Mr. Gibbs scrunched up his brow in complete confusion. Jared's eyebrows remained raised. Here, Sparrow let go of his mug and reached forth to my hand. He patted it sweetly and smirked most evilly at me.

"All I want, love, is me _Verdad_ back."

Silence.

Then…

"WHAT?!?" I screamed, withdrawing my hand from his and widening my eyes in disbelief. Jared screwed up his face.

"Ye heard me," Sparrow simply stated, pulling a new mug to his lips. Opposite me, Mr. Gibbs said nothing.

"B-b-but…."

"But Seadog has the _Verdad_," Jared interrupted, slamming a hand over my mouth to shut me up; "You sold it to him!"

Captain Sparrow sighed. He licked his lips and gazed calmly at Jared, somehow ignoring me. Across the room, the fiddler had taken his little violin and smashed it on his drunken singer's head.

"Let's put it this way, aight?" he looked at us coolly, "Get me the _Verdad_ and ye both get to come onto _Betty_. Otherwise…"

"Ye get left behind," Mr. Gibbs finished for him, looking solemnly at us. He was obviously on Sparrow's side. I scrunched my nose at him in disgust and almost stuck my tongue out. Beside me, Sparrow had leaned back, obviously content.

Biting my lips in anger, I growled, "Do you pirates do anything out of the good of heart?!?"

"Nay, not really," Sparrow answered me, smirking away. I resisted an urge to lung at him and murder him with my bare hands.

"You want us to steal the _Verdad_ back from Seadog's den?" Jared scrunched in brows as he glared at the captain. His fingers fidgeted nervously. I swallowed back my saliva and shouted again.

"You've been planning this from the start, you fucking bastard! All this time, you planned to use us-…"

Jared cut me off by grabbing my shoulder and squeezing gently. His grip was firm yet warm. I spun my head around and glare at him.

"What?!?"

Jared looked at Sparrow, then Mr. Gibbs and finally me. He licked his lips and his blue eyes sparkled in the daunting firelight.

"Damnit, Joe! Does it look like we have a choice?!"

I officially hate pirates.

* * *

"Doesn't Seadog remind you of Jabba the Hut?" I asked my brother as we shuffled down the dark alley together, our footsteps the only sound in the quiet of the night. Above, a crow swept past, calling out in its shrill voice like a banshee on the wings of the wind.

"Who?" Jared raised an eyebrow at me as he looked up from his shoes, his feet kicking a stray pebble. All doors and shutters were shut on either side of us, the chimneys above us quiet and dark. A silver cat trailed behind us, its bright hazel eyes watching us like a predator watches its prey. The skies were churning, bright orange clouds shredding the dark skies with the promise of rain and thunder. The smell of rain tainted the air, more then it had a few hours ago, and the wind howled, rushing back my bronze hair and chilling my bones.

It wouldn't be long before the skies gave way and the little filthy island of Tortuga was swept in a fiery battle storm.

"You know," I rolled my eyes at him, voice dragged down in a whine "The dude from Star Wars? The fat, slug-looking guy…you know! The one that captured Princess Leia in Star Wars; Return of the Jedi! C'mon, Jared! You remember!" Jared's eyes did an orbital roll as he stuffed his hands into his pant's pockets. A shiver of mist escaped his lips as he breathed out softly, in a long, tired sigh. The icy cold wind slapped against his face, paling his skin until he looked like a ghost against the bleak night.

"Of _course_ I know," Jared moaned in reply, gazing at me with a slight scowl, "You made us all watch the whole entire series of Star Wars last summer remember? I almost died that day."

"Please, don't exaggerate;" I snapped at him, wrapping my arms across my chest to warm myself, "I'm not that bad." Behind us, the stray cat meowed, moaning out in its dreadful lament.

"Live it up, sis," Jared merely replied, coyly twiddling his thumbs his pant's pocket and casting me a grim expression, "You're obsessed with Star Wars." Above us, a flash of light crackled across the sky, rolling over the thunderous clouds and arching out in branches. A filthy-looking rat scurried by us, against the alley's wall, running with its little pink feet peeking at us through the dark of the road. The wind stirred again.

When will the rain come?

"Well," I tilted my chin slightly skyward, my voice cracking from the icy wind, "Ain't n-nothing wrong with being obsessed with Star Wars. It's an epic, after all….at the very least, I'm not obsessed with something stupid as…Aha! Football!" I said the last bit with a triumphant grin; sassing my brother's love for American football was one of the few joys life offered.

"Wow, Joe," Jared yawned in reply, looking at me dully, "Insulting my game. Again. Very impressive use of the brain, might I add." He scrunched up his eyebrows slightly as another breeze pulled.

"I'm sleepy alright?! I can't think straight!" I nearly screamed, throwing my arms above my head, "I'm fucking exhausted! I've been up all day, all of 24 hours-…"

"So have I."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to deal with that-that Sparrow all day! God, he drives me mad!!" My last cry was especially loud, exploding upwards to the dark clouds and sideways down the dank alley. A crow called once again and a silver of moonlight peeked through the clouds, casting a dim gleam of pale down upon us. Jared's footsteps slowed as he gave out a deep sigh.

"The problem with you, Joe," he breathed, gazing sidelong at me with a twitch of amusement, " Is that you always seem to forget that I have gone through pretty much everything you have for the past few days-seeing as we've been stuck together so far. The only reason you're acting like you're dying is, well….you're over-dramatic, Joe." A thin, wary smile played on his lips as he gazed at me silently, hands still hidden in his pockets. My heart jolted slightly as his steady walking pace moved him out of the shadow of a house and into the frail moonlight; he looked older then his 17 years.

In fact, he looked a little like Dad.

"Over-dramatic, huh?" I murmured in reply, turning away from my brother. He did not answer. The silver cat had caught up with us now, purring softly at our feet and gazing up at us with its honey-brown eyes. Its bony-tail coiled around my leg in an attempt of friendliness. The shadow of another dark bird swept over the top of houses once again, sailing smoothly by as the last glimmer of moonlight was finally snuffed out by the rolling rain clouds. A gale blew and my blood chilled to ice.

Once again, silence drowned us.

For a next five minutes, we walked in silence, our footsteps the only sound in the quiet night. My thoughts wandered as we walked of course, jumping from the topic of never seeing my home again to how hot Milo Ventimiglia actually was. I was spell-bounded in the midst of a thought of the shirtless actor when I suddenly hit Jared right smack in his back.

"OI!" I yelled out as I almost fell back, tripping slightly over my large feet, "Watch where you're going!" My brother stared back at me with a look of annoyance and said nothing. Instead, he pointed to his right. It was only then that I realized that we had stopped walking. On my right, plastered against the wall of a big, cobbled house was the same old wooden door, the little opening shut tight. No sound came from behind it, no soft whisper; not even the heat of before.

Seadog's den.

"Oh damnit, Jared!" I yelled, stomping my feet in frustration, "Must we really do this?!" Jared rolled his eyes at me again in reply.

"Like I said, Joe," He sighed softly, breathing gently, "We don't have a choice."

"B-but…I mean, c'mon!" I cried at him, flinging my hands to explain my point, "We could pretty much get our heads blown off here! Let me tell you, dude, I'm too young to lose my head!"

"It's either risking this or staying in this shit-hole forever," he merely replied, studying the wooden door coolly, "Besides, it's not that dangerous. Sparrow did say that Seadog and most of his men are at the port, preparing the ship. The den should be pretty much empty-easy enough to sneak in and steal the _Verdad_." He said as if it was the simplest thing ever, his blue eyes blinking away sleep.

"Please. I don't trust Sparrow."

"Not my problem," he murmured and with that, he turned away and carried down the alley without a moment's hesitation. I stared after him and after a second or so, when I realized he was really going, I called after him.

"Yo, Jared!" I cried, running after my twin, "Where're you're going?! What about the _Verdad_?! Wh-…"

"Shut up Joe," he grumbled in reply, turning a scowl at me over his hunched shoulders, "Keep making noise and we will _really _get our heads blown off. Just follow me, alright?" I opened my mouth to argue but Jared's dark scowl made my jaw snap right back up. He was in a foul mood and it was best to be silent at times like this. So, I followed silently behind him, still having no idea what he was doing. The silver cat had quit following us; instead, it sat right in front of the wooden door, staring after us with its dark eyes. A thunder rumbled above us, like an angry beast, grinding and gnashing its teeth. I twiddled my thumbs as we continued down the alleyway, until at last, we reached the corner of the house; it turned sharply to the right into another alley of dark houses.

"Jared…"

"Look," my brother offered, pointing down to the ground, "Side door." Nestled at the side of Seadog's den, at the corner of the big house, was a small door, but 1 and a half meter high. It laid in a muddy trench a foot down, stone steps covered with grime leading down towards it. Like the door before, it was wooden and old, though much smaller and dirtier. A rat foraged for food near the corner of the first step, its dark eyes twinkling in the dark. Another thunder moaned.

"Oh great," I sulked, biting my lower lip as I glared at the little door, "Side door."

"C'mon," my brother nudged me forward with his shoulder, gazing upwards a little. With a sigh, I walked onwards towards the muddy steps. My boots slugged into the mud as I stepped onto the brick steps and I couldn't help but grimaced at it; there was more then mud on the ground. Balancing carefully, I wobbled my way down the few steps and towards the small door, darkness closing in at every step. There was no light at the door, none at all, and it probably didn't help that the moon was missing in action again. The air was chilly and the muddy trench reeked terribly of something dead.

"Yuk," I turned back to Jared who was balancing his way down the trench, "Do you smell that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded his head, cheeks flushed, "Just open the door, would ya?" He jumped the last step into the sludgy mud behind me, sloshing thick muck everywhere. I nodded in reply and in turn, wheeled to face the small door. Lighting flashed across the sky as the wind howled away in agony. It was frightfully cold, the perfect Halloween weather. I leaned forward and with a shudder, pushed my weight against the door.

It didn't budge.

I tried again, this time putting all my strength to it.

It did not even creak.

"Alright, then!" I beamed, spinning around to face my brother, "It's locked. We can't get in. Let's go!" I made for the stairs but Jared grabbed me back by my arm, pushing me back to face him once again. He looked at me stonily.

"How 'bout trying the doorknob, Joe?" He grinned without humour at me, eyes glaring. With a gulp, I merely grinned back.

"Right. Doorknob."

With a whine in my throat, I turned back to the small door and gazed down waist-length; a rusty, little doorknob peeked at me through the darkness. A sigh settled in my throat as I grabbed the doorknob, and with a hard yank, pushed the door open.

Hell yeah, I'm going lose my head tonight.

* * *

Truth be told, Sparrow _was_ right.

Seadog's den was empty.

Jared and I paced down the sullen corridor, ears alert and hearts racing. Doors littered the left side of the corridor wall, most shut tight and locked. Fire-lamps dangled from the ceiling, the small flames crackling softly as the silence of the den engulfed us tightly in a net. My throat was tight and my chest burned. Hot air swirled around us, the stink of opium present, yet faded, as if it had sunk into the wooden boards permanently. Above us, the ceiling moaned and creaked as raindrops smashed down on the wood like metal bullets of cold. Wooden boards creaked under our feet, each step a painful _squeak_.

I dared not breathe any louder.

"You reckon we check these rooms, Joe?" my brother whispered behind me, his voice hoarse and crackled, "Just in case?" I turned back slightly to face him. His blue eyes were pale as they darted around in their sockets, eyebrows raised in alertness. Both of us had agreed earlier on at the inn that he would be the look-out as I stole the _Verdad_; he was obviously the more alert one.

"Nah," I shook my head slightly and turned back to my front, "Don't want to waste time, now do we? Sparrow said that Seadog always kept his treasures in his room, away from the other pirates. That's our best bet right now."

"I thought you said you didn't trust Sparrow."

"Awww shut it, Jared!"

Above the rooftop, a thunder rumbled out again, louder then before. The sound of the wind howling through the gaps in the house wailed out down the corridor, echoing all around us. Despite the heat of Seadog's den, I found myself shivering. Something nagged inside of me, something I just couldn't quick make out. My throat pulled tighter as we neared the end of the corridor and my stomach lurched; God, I really wanted to get out of here!

"Do you get this feeling…?"

"Like we're being watched? Tell me about it." My brother gingerly answered, nodding his head slightly. He bit his lower lip nervously as he stuffed his hands in his pockets once again, his footsteps soft behind me. I looked at him for a while and then, shook my head.

"Nah. Must be nerves."

Jared nodded slowly after a second or so.

"Yeah, must be."

We carried down the corridor, still slow as ever. Rats as big as skunks ran at the corner, by the wall, chattering away in their little voices. The floor was blotched with spittle and blood, staining the dark wood and stinking the air. I found myself stuffing my hands into my pockets, just like my brother. Behind us, the door that led to Seadog's main room-the room we had been in earlier in the night-swung on its hinges slowly, somehow moving by itself in the still of the silence. Another thunder rumbled above our heads and the rats squeaked

All of a sudden, Jared grabbed my right elbow, jerking me to a standstill. My entire body froze. My eyes widened. I held my breath, daring not even a whisper.

"_What_?"

Jared's lips barely moved.

"_Listen_."

Then I heard it. A soft sound, barely audible, whispered in the silence. It was muffled, as if someone was holding it back; a faint murmur that sighed throughout the corridor. It was short yet deep, staccato at every few seconds and dull at long breath. It was like the clanging of a brass bell, like the sounds one would hear when beneath the water's surface; a sound so weak I could barely make out what it was.

The sobbing of a woman.

"It's coming from there," my brother whispered at me as he pointed to the door two steps away from me, his finger trembling as he lifted it. I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. I took my first breath and let it out with a sigh. The sobbing continued.

Without a word, we both moved forward, our heart's thumping loud and clear in our ears. The wooden boards creaked under our two steps as we inched forward, my blood freezing in my arms. The hairs on my body began to stand up, a sudden cold washing over me. Goosebumps raced up and down my skin and my heart did a little jig.

My legs had never been so heavy in my life.

Without a moment's breath, I stepped in front of the door that the sobbing came from and with a sidelong glance at my brother, I pushed it open.

The wooden door swung back to reveal a large room. A rumbling fire spewed in the stone fireplace at the right wall, its orange flames crackling against the trashing of the storm outside. The room was fairly furnished; a giant rough-sheeted bed sat in the middle of the room, its twin arches made of fine, dark wood. A set of embroidered chairs stood in front of the fire-place, each designed as if for someone of high ranking. Jewels of fair sat on the mantel above the fire, their smooth faces reflecting the angry flame beneath them. Above them, set on a rack in the wall, was a sword of old; its hilt was jeweled and gold, the reflection of the flames gleaming against its silver end. Dark engravings glowed gently in the cool metal, near the hilt.

"For a pirate, he did pretty good!" I found myself smirking, throwing aside my wariness and my panic. Warmth re-embraced my heart. Somehow, all my fears had dissipated immediately. I turned around to Jared to say something quirky but my mouth paused in motion the moment I saw his face.

He wasn't looking at me.

I turned and it was then that I saw her.

Sitting against the bed, cold on the floor was Lady Errol herself. Her pale face peeked at us among the dark background, her red hair a fiery halo upon her head. Tears streamed down her milky skin, her green eyes glaring up at us in a mixture of fear and anger. Her faded pink dress was wrapped around her like a blanket, her knees drawn up to her chin and her thighs, to her chest. Her ghostly hands were straddled to her dress, her long, weary fingers kneading the cloth in anxiety.

As her eyes met mine, she shrank away a little, creeping farther away to the wall. She licked her ruby red lips and breathed out shortly, letting more tears roll down her face. She looked like a mouse, trapped and cornered by a cat, about to face its death. Her dark eyelashes shivered and she gave out a sob of fear, a sob of horror.

"Girl, you need a tan," I smirked down at her, resisting the urge to jump onto the big bed. Beside me, Jared said nothing. Lady Errol looked up at me in surprise and for a second, I saw what looked like relief sparkle in her eyes. Then, she shrank back.

"P-Please don't do a-anything to me!" she sobbed, her chest heaving in and out at every word, "Please don't hurt me!" She pushed herself against the wall, shaking her head at us as she trembled. She was no longer wet, as she had been when we first saw her several hours ago. Yet, she still shivered; I had a feeling fear had more to do with it then anything.

Drawing in a deep breath, Jared took a step forward. He walked slowly towards her, holding up a hand.

"It's okay," he said softly, his voice husky and deep, "We're not here to hurt you." Lady Errol said nothing but continued to sob, pushing herself against the wall even more. She mouthed the word 'please', pulling her legs to her as tightly as she could. More tears ran down her cheeks.

"Listen, please," Jared went on again, walking slowly towards her, "Trust us. Trust me. We would never hurt you."

I got bored.

Striding past my brother and ignoring the both of them, I walked towards the fireplace. The sword gleamed attractively above the roaring fire, its edge sharp still. Its hilt, as mentioned before, was priceless; red jewels studded the gold hilt, glowing warm in the radiance of the fire. Without a second thought, I tip-toed and pulled it of the rack. The blade came down easily, surprisingly light in my hand. Its silver edge beamed brightly in the fire's light, reflecting my face in its clear surface. I grasped its gold hilt fiercely, the sword fitting snugly into the palm of my hand.

"Hey," I turned back to my brother, looking at the engravings that were written in the blade, near the hilt, "What does 'wiggly line, wiggly line, dot, wiggly, more wiggly line' mean?"

I looked up from the sword when Jared didn't answer; he was busying himself with wiping away Lady Errol's tears with the edge of his sleeve. The red head's sobbing had quieted. With an orbital roll of my eyes, I turned away from them. I swished the sword around a couple of time and then threw it into the air to test it out; I caught it perfectly.

With a contented grin, I then turned back to the fireplace, swinging the sword to my side. Upon the mantel sat numerous jewels, each beautiful and fine. Gold coins sat between them, all glittering like fire in the orange light. A goblet of gold sat at the edge of the bounty, like the Holy Grail in stories.

"I think this is Seadog's room!" I announced to the other two as I picked at the treasures, but no one paid me any heed. Lady Errol had stopped her sniffling but now spoke more calmly, her voice a strange melodic lull. Jared's voice was still hoarse.

"Bet everything in the room's stolen," I mumbled to myself, running my fingers over the jewels. They were all of different colours; amber, ruby, emerald and sapphire winked up at me as I swished the priceless sword by my side. The heat of the fire danced against my legs, bringing warmth into my body. Above us, a thunder rumbled once again. The wind howled.

It was then that I saw it. Sitting at the corner of the mantel, resting against the gold goblet, was the _Verdad_ itself, in all its glory. The golden threads in the clear amber ball still glowed its brilliant golden light, still moving about like handful of worms. With a cry of triumph, I grabbed it.

It was then that Lady Errol screamed.

A pirate stood at the room's door, glaring at us with an opium pipe stuck out over his lips. He was a short fellow, with a head full of copper hair and a filthy face streaked with mud. His eyes widened at the sight of us and for a hear beat, all went still. Then, with a cry, the pirate reached down to his holster.

He wasn't quick enough though. Without a word, my brother slammed himself against the little pirate, knocking the dirty fellow off his feet and out of the room. The pirate screamed as he fell but before he could recover from the shock, Jared socked him square in the face. His head snapped back, slammed into wooden floor and without another cry, went out like a light.

"And he scores!" I yelled triumphantly, punching the air with the hand that clenched the _Verdad_.

"C'mon, Joe!" Jared yelled, grabbing Lady Errol's hand and pulling her out of the room. The red head did not argue.

So shouldn't I.

Without a moment's pause, I made for the door. Then, I stopped. I turned around and ran back to the fireplace. Stuffing the _Verdad_ into my oversized pants pocket, I grabbed all the jewels I could and push them into my pocket, gold coins falling to the floor with clinks.

"JOE!!"

"Coming!" I answered and with the sword still in hand and a pocket full of jewels, I jumped over the little pirate's unconscious body and ran out of the room.

* * *

"How many are after us?!" I screamed at my brother as he, Lady Errol and I ran down the streets of Tortuga. My loose white shirt flapped in the wind, revealing my scarred tummy below. Above us, the sky moaned and churned as it lashed down upon us, the icy raindrops cutting into my skin like a cold dagger.

"I 'm not counting, Joe!!" Jared screamed back, his blue eyes glaring at me as he panted steadily. Beside him, Lady Errol held up her long dress as she ran, her pale, bare feet turning black with muck. Her red hair flew limply in the cold wind, soaked with rain. Her small chest heaved in and out frantically, the pink cloth becoming slightly translucent in the rain.

"HOW MANY?!" I screamed even more loudly, catching my breath as much as I could. My legs were already beginning to burn and all that I had with me-the jewels, the sword and of course, the _Verdad_-seemed to be pulling me down. My heavy boots sloshed in the dirty puddles, my entire body cold and wet to the bone.

"I-DON'T-KNOW!!" my brother yelled over the howl of the wind, not bothering to turn back to me. His copper brown hair was flat to his skull, the raindrops streaming down the bridge of his nose. He ran professionally, of course, channeling his strength and moderating his pace. His chest moved up and down slowly as his long legs took gigantic steps ahead of us girls.

Bullets whizzed past us as we neared a bend and the three of us instinctively ducked as we ran, the rain slashing into us harshly. The road was barely proper to even walk. Puddles the size of car tyres took up most of the space and the mud that covered the road seemed to drag us down even more, its leeching arms draping itself all over my boots and slowing my pace. Beside me, the sword dangled in my hand limply, the sharp edge creating a define line in the mud behind us.

"IT'S A MOB!" I screamed to my companions as I shied a look over shoulder whilst I ran for my life. Seadog's pirates were at least 10 meters behind us, in numbers that far outmatched ours. In the blinding rain and the moonless sky, it was hard to see anything. Yet, somehow, I could just make out a group of men chasing after us, pistols firing and swords slashing. Up in the sky, a bright lightning zigzagged over us, followed by an insanely loud thunder. Lady Errol, Jared and I rounded a bend, still running for our lives. Beside me, I heard Jared give out a muffled cry but he kept on running. I had to ask him what happened later on.

If we made it, that is.

"Hey, Jared!" I yelled over the chaos as the three of us ran in sync down the muddy street.

"WHAT?!" Jared cried in reply, somehow his voice sounding much more tight and wet. Beside him, Lady Errol gave out a squeal as she nearly slipped. Jared's breathing had become inconsistent beside me.

"Doesn't this…remind you…of Star Wars, Return of the Jedi?" I couldn't help but ask, yelling in between breaths. A thunder bellowed again. Jared turned his head and stared back in disbelief.

"WHAT?!"

"You know…when L-Luke Skywalker….saved Princess Leia….Red head over t-there….Princess Leia…us…Luke…. Luke Skywalker...you know…"

"As much as I wouldn't like to interrupt," Princess Leia shouted over another thunder as she jumped expertly over a discarded barrel, "Do you two even _have_ a plan?"

Jared turned away from me and in the misty rain, I saw him lift his right arm and clutch his left shoulder. He panted even more. He answered Lady Errol in a tight, painful voice.

"The dock…head to the dock."

Another bullet whizzed right past my ear.

It wasn't long before we finally reached the sea. Bullets still flew at us and behind us, the sounds of the charging mob vibrated throughout the ground. My sword was becoming very, very heavy. The sea churned ahead, its waves lashing and grinding against the dark masses of ships that lay uncertainly upon it. At the dock, but a few meters away, oil lamps hung at every wood post, lighting a path for us. There were men there, fishermen and pirates alike preparing for an earlier sail-off despite the weather; something told me that pirates never had their heads screwed on right. In the distance, in the horizon of the wailing sea, light peeked out gently, a warm glow that greatly contrasted with the trashing of the storm.

Dawn had arrived.

Lady's Errol, Jared and I hit our feet against the wooden floor of the dock at the same time, the familiar ding a welcome to my ears. The wood was slippery and the rain harsh but somehow, we managed. In a single row, with me leading, we dashed through the crowd of sleepy fishermen and pirates, abuses hurtling at us from all directions. Behind us, the mob of yelling pirates still followed. We ran our way to the crowd and past the fish market; I wanted to buy some fish for our journey but Jared had pulled me away with an arm.

Somehow, through all chaos, we finally saw it.

In the distant, a majestic ship loomed in the waking dawn, the rain blinding its details. Lighted oil lamps littered the entire sun deck, faceless silhouettes striding about. In the rain, it was all hardly perceptible but somehow, in the little light some oil lamps gave, the name of the ship jumped out of the darkness at us.

_Betty_.

"Sparrow!!" I screamed, striding ahead of my brother and Lady Errol and onto the wooden plank that led to the ships, "We've got it! We've got the Verdad!!!"

Now, I must apologize for the next bit for things are still a little foggy with me. I guess it must have been something to do with the horrid cold and the lashing rain for the next thing I knew, I was slipping down on my knees and crashing into the dark, cold sea.

**Thanks for all the reviews!!!**

**This chapter was a bit long and I really have to apologize for taking so long to write… you see, I had major exams that past few months and had to concentrate on my studies. Thus, I could only write when it was all over. So sorry!**

**Anyway, that's it for chapter 10! I'm sure to put up the next chapter really soon….maybe in a few days. Don't worry; Will Turner will be debuting in Chapter 12 or Chapter 13….most likely 12. So…please review and thanks!**

**XOXO**


	12. The Red Head

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Once again, I would like to apologize that Will is not in this chapter. However, I promise…with my life…that he will definitely appear in the next!**

**So…thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy!!**

**Chapter 11**

**The Red Head**

"Now what? Now what do we do?"

"We wait, Jared. She has to wake up on her own."

"B-But….she's been asleep for three days, Scarlett! What…what if she d-doesn't…"

"Have a little faith, Jared. Have faith."

* * *

_It was the same as it was before; the dark green lawn, the thin-branched trees veining above, the gentle sunlight streaming through. A gravel path sat at my feet, leading through the green grass and flowered weeds. A wooden house sat at its end, the morning sunlight striking the weathered roof harshly and reflecting the dew-covered moss that blanketed its dark surface. Worn-down steps led up from the gravel pathway to the wooden veranda, a dark door etched deep into the wall of the house, dark rimmed windows shouldering it. A breeze pulled away, rattling the branches above me and shedding the pure green leaves from the trees._

_Home._

"_You have a beautiful home," a heavily-accented voice slithered behind me, making the hairs on the nape of my neck prick up._

_I swung around, twisting on my feet, staring at the owner of the voice. A woman stood at my front gate, just off the edge of the unusually deserted road. Her skin was of charcoal, red sores and dark spots blemishing her hairless arms. A net of black hair sat atop her head, the dry, rough strands pulled up in the shape of a beehive. Dark beads straggled within the black mess, all shaped strangely and coloured weirdly. The women wore a strange dress, a dirty beige frock that stretched to her ankles and ended in her bare, muddy feet. Her nails were jagged and thorn, a thick line of dirt circling her neck like a necklace. Set in her dark face was a pair of dark, brown eyes; they stared at me with mild amusement, eyebrows raised._

"_Who are you?" my voice trembled as I breathed the words out. The wind had slowed down to a gentle breeze, playing gently with the leaves at my feet._

"_It is not yet time to know that, Joanna," the strange woman replied, jolting my heart in surprise, "It is not yet time."_

"_How the heck…HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!" I practically screamed, my voice drowning out the soft wailing of the wind. Around us, the world was silent. Not a cricket crooned, not a car rattled by. The usual sounds of the neighbourhood, the sounds of children laughing and dogs barking that had for so long been etched in my memory, were gone, inexistent. The only sound was the soft calling of the wind and the echo of my voice._

"_I SAID…"_

"_I'm in your head, Joanna," the women answered simply, a smile tugging at her lips, "You are dreaming."_

_I raised an eyebrow at this. _

_Right…_

"_So…" I looked at her cautiously, lowering my voice back to its normal volume, "This is just a dream?" I swung back on my heels and waved my hand at the wooden house-my home-before me._

"_THIS…is a dream?"  
_

"_Yes," the strange women nodded, "You're not home." _

_I said nothing at this. I looked at the wooden house, at the front porch. Was it not only yesterday that I had been slapping Reid on that very veranda, marching up those steps to retrieve that lamp from the attic?_

_Wasn't it?!_

_I hated this dream._

_Turning back to the strange woman, I yelled, flinging my arms into the air._

"_WHO ARE YOU?!"_

_Now, the women smiled. Shining back at me, under her blistered lips, were rows of gleaming yellow teeth, jagged and cracked with age. A blackish tongue twirled around behind them, sending chills like razors up my spine._

"_Wake up, Joanna. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up..."_

"Wake up!" Jared's voice burst through the fog of my dream, sharp and loud, "Dear God, Joe! Wake up!"

My eyes sprang open, the muscles around my face screaming in protest. The back of my eyeballs burned as my lashes settled back, my eyelids peeling away from the skin as if it had been sewed down into it. My head swirled, the dark giving way to a wooden ceiling, washed partially in golden morning sunlight. My neck ached as I blinked slowly, my eyelids heavy and painful as if something had bit into them. Blood pulsed to my eyes, creating a rushing pain behind them. I moaned out slowly, my chest heaving out the sound in pain.

"JOE!"

A familiar pair of hands lunged at me, cupping my face and hugging me awkwardly. His body leaned over mine, a knee steadying him on the bed as he kissed the top of my head fiercely. His large hands swept back my curls as his voice choked out, his blue eyes looking down at me with overwhelming relief. His skin was pale as the moon's face, dark circles shadowing his large eyes like the panda I had seen in the zoo a few years ago. His chapped lips moved frantically; he was saying something, something I wasn't hearing.

"That's enough, Jared," a stern yet melodic English-accented voice spoke out, somehow piercing through the veil of my numbness, "Give her a little room."

As Jared pulled away from my numb body, I saw her.

Lady Errol sat on a wooden stool on the right side of the bed. Her pale hands were folded neatly in her lap, her clean nails long and elegant. A swirl of fiery red hair fell from her head, her luscious curls flowing down the bridges of her shoulders like rivers of molten lava. She still wore her pink dress, the gentle fabric spilling over her heels and gracing the wooden floorboards in a canopy of faded cherry. Her tiny chest heaved in and out patiently, her back straight and rigid like an iron bar. Her olive eyes peeked out of her pale, heart-shaped face, glancing down at me with moderate interest.

"Red…head…" I managed to croak out, my throat hoarse and painful, "You're not dead."

Beside me, Jared chuckled lowly. His right hand still rested behind my head, on my dark blonde curls that were splayed out on the yellow pillow graciously. His other hand clutched my wrist, fingers digging into the sheep-fur-blanket unconsciously. A contented and relieved smile played on his lips. Opposite me, Lady Errol's red lips drooped into a slight frown.

"Well, thank you," she muttered in reply, a little bitterly, "Thank you for your concern. I am fine. And my name is Scarlett-Marie…not red head."

"Scarlett-Marie Errol?" I asked with a strain, digging my free hand-the one that Jared wasn't clutching- into the hard bed and pushing me up into a sitting position. A sharp pain resounded through my body at my effort and Jared let go of my hand to assist me, padding my pillows a little higher up for my comfort. His hands were surprisingly gentle, for once, as he helped me lean back once again onto the yellow pillows, my back propped up in a slouch. His baby blues glance down at me with a mixture of feelings-concern, tenderness but most of all, relief.

"_Lady_ Scarlett-Marie Errol," Lady Errol corrected, a small, polite smile tugging at her lips, "I am the daughter of Lord Edmund Errol, Commodore of the 3rd Battalion of Port Royal and a loyal friend to His Majesty. You may address me as Scarlett-Marie though; there is no need for formality from my rescuers." She finished her a little speech with a small, tight smile, hands poised neatly among the folds of her dress. All around us, it seemed as if the room was moving, rocking gently in a slow, continuous motion. I pressed my fingers at my temples.

"I'll stick with Red-head, thanks," I managed to grimace as an ache began to creep into my head. The numbness was already beginning to fade away, a pulsing pain slowly piercing through the thin veil. My once numb fingers were beginning to feel again.

"What's wrong?" Jared's voice was raised with alarm as he took a step forward, a hand grasping my elbow. Beside me, Scarlett-I'm just going to call her Scarlett-jumped delicately to her feet.

"My head," I replied gingerly as an ache began to grow in my shoulder blades. Below my ribcage, my stomach wailed out in agony. One of my hands left my head to clutch at my stomach, Jared's concern hand on my shoulder. He began to pat my back comfortingly.

"It's your fall," Scarlett said, walking towards the wooden bed's side table and pouring a reddish liquid from a chipped ceramic pitcher into a dirty glass, " You were quite hurt."

"Fall?" I winced at a sudden snap of pain in my head, my veins pushing against the fingers at my temple. Beside me, Jared sucked in a quick breath. Scarlett nodded as she picked up the glass from the table and handed it to me. Thick red dots appeared in the yellow bed sheets as I gingerly took it from her, my hand trembling slightly.

"You slipped and fell on the dock," Scarlett explained, pulling her hand back, back still rigid, "Fell into the sea. I-We assume that you must have hit your head on the floorboards. You were completely unconscious when Jared had brought you back to shore." Her English accent plus her sweet voice made her seem awfully innocent. Those big, green eyes didn't help either.

"You swam in after me?" I meekly asked, turning to Jared as I sipped on the reddish liquid in the glass. It was sweet and thick, a heavenly aroma swirling off it. It was obvious that rum played a big part in this concoction; the first taste and I almost thought that it was solely rum. My stomach rippled again and my brain banged away inside of my skull. A burn had begun in my shoulder blades.

"Of course!" Jared replied, looking at me with wide eyes. Almost immediately, I wished I had taken whatever I had said back. A look of immense hurt washed over Jared's face, darkening his features into a painful scowl. His hand jerked away from my shoulder and sank down to his side, his whole body rigid.

I wondered what I had said.

Another rumble of my stomach and Scarlett was pushing the glass in my hand gently to my mouth, forcing more of the liquid to slide down my throat. It was delicious, warm and settling to my stomach. Slowly, as I gulped it down, it began to clear my head. The pain subsided slowly, the burn in my shoulders reducing to a mere ache and my stomach taking its time to settle down. It was as if a paintbrush had begun to smear away the pain, all in the stroke of a hand.

"Gibbs made it," Scarlett explained as I gulped down the rum-thickened drink, "His own recipe. I…I don't know if it would work though. He said it would help with the hunger and the pain." When Scarlett saw me lift my eyebrows in confusion, she quickly continued.

"You have been asleep for 3 days, Joanna. You are bound to be hungry. Not to mention sore….According to Mr. Gibbs, the drink will help." I nodded at this slowly, still gulping down the delicious red drink. Somewhere, in a far distant, flaky memory, I recalled two conversing voices, lamenting on how long I had been asleep. I guess I must have overheard my brother and Scarlett during some unconscious state of mind.

Suddenly, my lips went dry again. Without a word, I pulled away from the cup and looked down into it. It was empty, a dark red stain settling at the bottom of the glass. My stomach growled again, but much more weakly. The ache in my head was gone.

"My, you're hungry," Scarlett smiled pleasantly down at me, a sickly, motherly expression on her face, "Not that you are to blame, of course." She then looked away from me and towards Jared, who was staring down at me with a blank expression. His hands still rested at his side, a gentle flush creeping up his cheeks. His lips were set in a thin line.

"Jared," Scarlett said, a sort of authoritative tone creeping into her voice, "Go to the cellar and get some food for your sister. The last I was there, there was some bread and honey. Go. Get that for her please." She reached forward and plucked the glass out of my hand, my fingers slipping away without any struggle. The burn in my shoulders had completely subsided.

Without a word, my brother nodded slowly. Then, moving as slow as if he was in water, he dragged himself to the end of the room and pushed open a door, the hinges whining as it swung back. Blinding sunlight streamed through and a wave of salty air gushed into the room, flooding my senses. It was a relief to smell it, the ocean I mean. I took in a deep breath and almost instantly, felt a smile tug at my lips. From the world outside, seabirds called out in their screechy voices.

With a glance back at me, Jared shuffled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

In the distant, the sun was setting.

The sky was lined with red, shreds of gold and blue stripping the rosy heavens. Seabirds flew over head, their sharp voices crying out and their soft pale wings gliding over cherry clouds like a ship over waves. In the distant, against the crimson sky, the sun slowly disappeared, the golden disc sinking into the calm waters like how _Titanic_ probably did; slowly yet gracefully. A cold wind blew at me, the sea's breath whipping my hair back and the sun's last flush drowning my hair in amber and gold. The gentle rays of fading sunlight kissed my skin gently, warming my chilled body and heart, as if someone had tossed a blanket over me.

Below me, _Betty_ groaned. It rocked gently on the calm waves, the gentle waters rubbing shyly against it. Up above, its sails pulled lazily, the cold wind tugging back the parchment-coloured sheets with little strength. A red flag flew high above all; its yellow-lined design impossible to see as it flapped wildly in the gale. A little seagull was perched on the top of the ship, on the mast like a little look-out pirate.

"Joey!" Mr. Gibbs called from the base of the mast, a smile stretching across his pudgy face, "I didn't think ye were well enough to get up yet!" His chubby hands fiddled with the ropes that were fastened to the mast, the ropes that held the sails down and ensured the continued passage of the ship. I smiled in return and walked casually to him, hands stuffed in pockets.

"I am well," I smiled as I neared the older men, my voice strained and softened by the wind, "Have been all day. If I had stayed in for another five minutes, well…I might just have lost my mind." Mr. Gibbs chuckled lowly in reply, turning back to the ropes. His grey ponytail hung limply behind his head, wet with sweat. In the fading sunlight, his skin looked even more red and ruddy then it actually was. He reminded me of a giant, baked lobster. High above, a seabird called out loudly.

"Where are Jared and Scarlett?" I couldn't help but ask, turning towards the helm of the ship on search of them. In the diminishing twilight, I could see the lounging dark figure of Sparrow at the ships wheel, silent and solid.

"Over der, sweetheart," Mr. Gibbs pointed a fat finger towards the front of the ship, "Ye brother and ye friend are over there."

Indeed, they were. In the shimmering sunlight and the darkening sky, I could see two figures near the front of the ship, leaning against the wooden side lazily. The sunlight washed Jared's hair in a blaze of glory, turning his copper hair into a brilliant gold. The amber rays washed across only half of his face, the rest of him cold in the shadows of the upcoming night. He leaned casually against the side of the ship, his hands waving about as if he was explaining something. Beside him, Scarlett was but a dwarf against his large frame. The wind swayed her pink dress gently, her ruby head matching the sky above as the golden sunlight streaked it with shimmers of pale gold. Her enchanting green eyes danced in the wavering sunlight, shining like giant emeralds out of her pale face.

With a tight smile, I dragged myself towards them. _Betty _rocked uneasily beneath my feet and echoed another groaned. I wondered how old this rat-ass of a ship actually was.

"Joanna," Scarlett squeaked as she finally noticed me approaching, hands dropping to her side, "What are you doing out of bed?" Beside her, Jared straightened up, looking at me with mild concern. I crossed my arms angrily as I neared them, lips drooping into a scowl.

"That's it!" I snapped, stopping just in front of Scarlett, "Call me Joanna one more time and I'll sucker-punch you, you hear?! I don't care if you break your nose and die while I am at it!"

"But, Joanna-…."

"One more time, girlfriend! ONE MORE TIME!"

Beside Scarlett, Jared burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. Somehow, the still unexplainable incident of earlier, where he had gone cold on me suddenly seemed forgotten. Now, he laughed heartily, his cute dimples flashing at the side of his cheeks and his cheekbones flushing a hearty red. I smiled at him; the last of the setting sun's light glazing my tanned skin.

"Joey," Jared smiled as his laughter subsided, his white teeth gleaming, "That's what she always goes by. Or Joe. Never Joanna." I smiled in agreement, cocking an eyebrow at the petite red head. Scarlett stared at us incredulously, her red lips slightly parted. Another wind blew, whipping her crimson hair back and blending it with the sky. A couple of seabirds argued away slightly above the red flag.

"But….it's a boy's name!"

"Exactly!" I grinned in reply, much to the amusement of Jared. Scarlett just stared back at me in disbelief. All of a sudden, a voice yelled behind us. I swung around on my feet, Scarlett and Jared tuning sideways to gaze at the back of the ship. At the ships helm, Sparrow was calling out for Mr. Gibbs, his hoarse voice muffled by the icy wind. His dirty hat was no longer on his dark head but now flew wildly in the wind, a dark mass gliding gracefully above on invisible wings. I couldn't help but laugh as Mr. Gibbs chased after the old hat, jumping up and down the side of the deck and shuddering the wooden floorboards with loud bangs. _Betty_ groaned once again.

"So Scarlett," I turned back to them, Jared and Scarlett still watching Mr. Gibbs with amused eyes, "You got a story or not?"

"Excuse me?" she turned back to me, green eyes set in mild confusion. Her voice was sweet and polite, the kind of voice you would expect from a kindergarten teacher. Her skin was flawless, sparking a fire within me, a fire as green as her eyes.

"You know," I said, running my fingers through my hair, "How did you get here?" This time, Jared turned away from Mr. Gibbs and gazed down at me. His baby blue eyes sparkled with the reflections of the waves.

"Joanna…Joe," Scarlett looked at me with slight worry in her eyes, "Don't you remember? You and Jared rescued me from-…"

"Yeah, yeah," I interrupted her, waving away her reply, "I got that. What I meant was…how did a pretty, delicate flower like you end up in Seadog's care in the first place?" Jared didn't say anything; he just stared at us with slight interest. Beneath us, the floorboards still moaned and groaned as Mr. Gibbs continued his crusade to save Sparrow's hat. Seagulls fought near the waves.

"It's a long story," Scarlett began.

"You don't see us going anywhere, now do you?"

Scarlett stared blankly at me for a minute or so before finally heaving out a sigh.

"Fine. You see…I have lived with my mother in London all my life. My father was always working; before Port Royal, he had been assigned a position in India. So you see… I hardly ever saw him. We conversed through letters weekly, and he would return to England every…every once in a while."

Here she paused, her cheeks flushed to the colour of her hair. Her olive eyes gazed down at her pixie-like bare feet. Beside her, Jared was a statue of silence.

"So…." I urged.

"So," Scarlett looked up from the floor at me, voice choking slightly "That was my life. However….six months, or was it five months ago, my mother passed away. She accidently drowned in our lake…yes, that's what the doctor's said." Once again, she paused, eyelashes fluttering. The wind picked up her hair again, pulling it into a red blanket across the sky. Mr. Gibbs had stopped jumping around; whether he had gotten the hat back or not was mystery to be solved later. In front of me, Jared lifted an arm and wrapped it comfortingly around Scarlett's shoulders. They smiled at each other; Scarlett's a soft, sad smile and Jared's a comforting one.

I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows at this. Wasn't Jared moving a _little_ too fast?! I mean…sure Scarlett was beautiful. And fragile. And sweet. And everything I'm not. Still….back home, he had at least waited a few days before he hit on some poor, defenseless cheerleader. He never dived right in, even if it was just for the sex. This was totally-

_Don't forget_, a tiny voice whispered in my head, _you have been asleep for 3 days. There was plenty of lonely time between these two_. I meant to argue something back, like how Sparrow and Mr. Gibbs had also been here, but then realized I was talking to myself. Besides, Scarlett had already resumed talking.

"So," she gazed back at me, slightly resting against my brother, "the only logical thing to do was to go to Port Royal and live with my father. He was the only family I had left, besides my grandfather. I took the _Columbia_ from London and made for Port Royal late April. On my way though, pirates attacked us." She choked and folded her petite arms across her chest. The wind wailed again. In the distance, the sun had already set, its last streaks of gold shredding the blood red sky. An icy chill crept up my spine.

"Seadog," I confirmed, nodding my head grimly. Scarlett nodded her head slowly in reply. Beside her, Jared tightened his arm around her.

"Yes," her voice choked, "He had all the sailors on board killed but k-kept me-…"

"He didn't touch you, did he?" Jared's voice croaked out, soft though. He watched Scarlett with velvet blue eyes. The icy wind had reddened his cheeks. Scarlett didn't response immediately. She tightened her arms across her chest and then gingerly spoke.

"He might as well have."

Silence clouded us. Above, the sky was slowly darkening, shedding its red skin for that of dark blue. The moon had already risen, a pale watermelon shaped face in the sky. Stars dotted the emptiness around it, slowly brightening as the sky darkened. I stuffed my hands deeper in my pockets, the sound of rushing waves flooding my ears.

"Seadog," I finally broke the silence, the thought hitting me like a wave against the cliff, "What happened to him? And his men? I thought they were chasing us…"

"They were," Jared looked away from Scarlett long enough to look down at me, "But Sparrow's quick on his feet."

"They're dead?" I asked, not momentarily interested in what Sparrow had done, "Seadog's dead?" Scarlett was studying her feet again, her red head resting gently against my brother's shoulder. Jared hadn't removed him arm.

"Most of his men are," Jared replied, gazing down at me coolly, "But not Seadog. Sparrow spared him." The way Jared explained things, with that irksome tone, somehow made me conjure up wild imaginations in my mind. Perhaps Sparrow had done what he had done in Port Royal, firing Seadog and his men with cannons. Or maybe, he had summoned some crazy sea monster and ordered it to eat up Seadog's entire crew, leaving Seadog behind because he was too fatty. Or maybe….

"We are not going north," Scarlett suddenly spoke out, her firm voice breaking through my trail of insane thoughts. She had pulled away from Jared and was now leaning over the side of the ship, gazing up into the iron-coloured sky. The waters below were dark, flecks of white waves reflecting the pale moon's light.

"What?" I raised an eyebrow.

"North," Scarlett repeated, an angry growl slowly creeping into her voice, "We're not going north." The wind whipped her blood red hair back, flushing her cheeks. She clenched the wooden side fiercely, her long nails digging viciously into the dark wood.

"How on earth do you know that?" I asked, scrunching my eyebrows. Beside her, Jared looked equally puzzled though he was silent. A large wave hit the side of the ship, rocking us back on our feet.

"There," Scarlett pointed up to the sky, fingers pale in the dark, "See those stars?" I did. High in the sky, bright against the dark blue, was a group of stars. There were in the shape of some sort of kitchen utensil, three stars forming its handle. In the darkening blue, it was still dim. Yet, somehow, Scarlett could see it perfectly.

"It's pointing to the north," Scarlett explained without looking back, her finger pointed in the same direction the two stars that made up the edge of the cup pointed to, "That way is north." Her slim index finger jabbed at the right of the boat's direction, slightly horizontal from _Betty_'s stern.

"We're heading west," Jared understood, realization lighting up his blue eyes. His hair was no longer gold; it had returned to its copperish, dark blonde colour due to the absence of the sun. I raised both my eyebrows.

"SO?" I couldn't help but ask. Why the hell did the direction we headed matter anyway? We had no idea where to go, so catching a ride with Sparrow seemed like the _only_ thing we could do. There was no place we needed to be. I was about to voice out my thoughts when Scarlett took off, running down the side of the ship towards the helm. Her red hair streamed behind her like a red, flapping banner. Her feet made no sound against the floor. Without a word, Jared took off after her, his heavy boots punishing the wooden boards. He called out for Scarlett as she climbed the steps to the helm, her pink dress flowing like those of a ghost.

"What?! You can read stars now?!" I screamed at them but my shrill was muffled away by the wind. The gale swiped my lose shirt back, creeping beneath my clothes and chilling my skin. Kneading my hands together and with a heavy sigh, I ran after them.

By the time I had reached the helm, Scarlett was busying herself by shouting at an amused Sparrow, who rested leisurely against the wheel. The icy wind whipped back his black dreadlocks comically, the silver pins that held the red bandana to his head glinting in the brightening moonlight. The golden rings around his fingers winked playfully at me as he clutched his dirty green compass in his left hand. In front of me, Jared stood silent, his arms folded across his massive chest. His face was hidden in the shadows.

"-…Port Royal, Mr. Sparrow! That was our agreement!" I managed to catch Scarlett shouting in a shrill voice as I trudged up the last step to the helm. The wooden boards creaked underneath me.

"There has been a change of plans, my Lady," Sparrow simply replied, studying his fingers carefully, "Aye, we are no longer heading dat way." There was a slight mocking tone in his voice, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

"What plan?" I breathed, walking forward slightly to stand beside my brother. Waves of heat radiated from him. At my voice, Sparrow lifted up his eyes from his fingers and directed them on me. A chill crept up my spine as his dark brown eyes stared into my chocolates, a small smile washing over his tanned face. My heart jolted slightly. Once again, I was reminded on how handsome he was.

"Captain Sparrow here," Scarlett spat in disgust, voice sharp, "made a deal with me while you were asleep, Joanna...Joe. He promised to take me to Port Royal, to my father. In return, I promised his safety as well as a handsome price for my safe return." Her green eyes were silted, cheeks red with fury. Her hands trembled at her side, the wind pulling at her dress. I gawked at her.

"Are you crazy?!"

"That's exactly what I said, love," he grinned at me gratefully, yellow teeth gleaming. Behind me, someone walked up the steps, creaking the floorboards nosily. Scarlett widened her eyes at me.

"Excuse me, Joe?"

"We are definitely not going back to Port Royal!" I demanded, flinging my arms and hitting Jared at his chest, "I don't want to be chased around again, not for my pants! No way!" A strong wind pulled again, this time clouding and muffling my ears. I felt blood rush to my cheeks.

"I couldn't agree more!" Sparrow smiled triumphantly, black dreadlocks shaking. He snapped his compass shut and stuffed it into one of his several pockets. Something glinted at his belt.

"I told you," Scarlett growled, clenching her fist at her side, "I'll offer my protection to you if we returned to Port Royal. All of you would not be tried as pirates."

"No, only as animals," Sparrow ended with smirk.

"Wait a second," I disrupted the train of the conversation, frowning, "What does this have to do with the north and the stars?" Beside me, Jared gave out an irritated groan.

"Port Royal is north from here, Joey," he muttered lowly, clearly annoyed. How any of them knew _that_ was a great mystery to me.

"Yes!" Scarlett snapped, glaring at the pirate before us, "And we are not headed there!" Her teeth were gritted and her lips were pulled back in a snarl.

"Let me tell ye something, lass," Sparrow now turned away from us and down to the floor, where a half-full bottle of rum sat unmoving on the rocking ship, "I, along with de rest of dem on dis ship ain't about to give up our lives, let alone dis ship, to a bunch of white-haired queers. Ye got that?" With one hand still on the wheel, he reached down and grabbed the bottle, his hand darting down so quickly.

"You gave me your word!" Scarlett screamed, her voice shrill like a dolphin. Her red hair seemed to blaze with her fury, striking across her pale face. At the wheel, Sparrow just smirked.

"What can I say, lass," he grinned, drawing the mouth of bottle to his lips, "I'm a pirate."

As if to relliterate and dramatize his point, the wind blew suddenly, lashing against us all harshly. Our clothes fluttered back, the wind flapping them viciously as if it meant to tear them off. My hair steamed back, Jared's pulled flat to his head. Scarlett's hair got into my face, dress tangled in between my legs. Sparrow's black dreadlocks flew past his face, his shirt lifting up slightly….

It was then that I saw it. Nestled in a hoop of Sparrow's belt was a sword, as long as my arm. Its edge was sharp, its body of cold, gleaming silver. Near Sparrows' hips, the hilt of the sword was of gold, red rubies gleaming on it in the soft moonlight. Just below the hilt, upon the cool metal surface were a bunch of wiggly lines…

"My sword!" I yelled darting forward despite the strength of the wind. Sparrow jumped a little back but he wasn't fast enough. With a cry, I grabbed his arm with one hand and pulled his whole arm to his head. Before he could even react, I pulled the sword away from his belt and swung it upwards, the blade kissing Sparrow's hairy chin. I dropped his arm back down but stood where I was, the sword's sharp edge among his beaded beard. Behind me, Jared gave out a cry. Sparrow's body went rigid.

"You stole my sword," I hissed with gritted teeth, the icy wind slapping against my face. I leveled the sword nearer to his throat, inching the blade forward as Sparrow backed up slowly. He still held his bottle of rum, both hands now held up by his face. The gold rings twinkled at me again.

"Joe…" my brother trailed off behind me before heaving out a sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Scarlett's pale little face. Whoever had been walking up the steps to the helm had stopped, the floorboards silent. _Betty_ creaked and groaned out in pain, as if it was a dog in its dying hours. The wind was relentless.

"You stole my sword!" I repeated, my voice somehow subsiding to a low growl. My fingers had gone numb, blood trailing down my palms; I must have cut myself on the sword as I had grabbed it. The sword shivered under Sparrow's chin. Truth be told, I had no idea why I was so angry. So, he stole my sword. Big deal. Hadn't I stolen it from Seadog's room in the first place?

Despite the questions in my head, I kept the sword steady.

"My jewels," I croaked out, grinding my teeth together, "and the Verdad. Where is it?"

"I believe de Verdad's mine, love," he smirked amusedly at me.

"Fine," I nodded slowly, Scarlett giving out a whine beside me, "But those jewels aren't yours."

"It ain't yers, either."

"Neither is this ship."

Sparrow smiled at me then, teeth gleaming. His dark brown eyes were alight with the same fire I had seen on that night outside Seadog's den. The muscles in his face twitched as he slowly dropped his hands back down to his side, the rum sloshing in the bottle. His black dreadlocks flew across his face, beads hitting one another with soft _pings_.

"Ye know something, love?" Sparrow asked, grin widening.

"Jewels, jackass."

"Ye'll make a real good pirate."

My tongue went dry at this, heart jolting and eyes widening. I totally wasn't expecting that.

"Yer witty," he explained, draping the hand that carried his rum over the wheel, "and yer smart. Real cunning too. Think on yer feet real quick." His smile widened and his eyes flashed amber. His dark moustache quivered and his cheeks flushed a faint red in the wind. I gulped, steadying the sword.

"But most importantly-as I once told an old friend of mine-, yer obsessed with treasure."

I pulled the sword down, away from Sparrow's chin. As I did, I heard Scarlett breathe out a sigh of relief beside me. Jared made no obvious reaction. The wind was beginning to lose strength, slowly fading away. The sky was entirely black now, millions of stars accompanying the partial moon above. The ship was dark; what little moonlight there was gave us only enough light to see things about 10 meters away. All else was pitch black.

I took two steps forward, my boots hitting the wooden boards nosily. The sword swung steadily at my side. I walked right up to Sparrow until our noses were only 2 inches apart. He smelled vile; a mixture of sweat and rum. His dark eyes were lighted with humour, wrinkles embellishing his tanned skin. His breath was hot against my cheek.

"I…am not…a pirate," I spat, biting down into every word. Rage burned within me as I grinded my teeth, my bleeding fingers numb. My free hand was clenched into a fist, my nails digging into my palms. I hated Sparrow. I hated the sight of him. I was nothing like him, nothing at all l-

I turned away before I could say anymore, think anymore. I wanted to scream. Without a gaze at anyone, I marched towards the steps. Jared reached for me and Scarlett called my name but I ignored them, stomped past a confused Mr. Gibbs-carrying lighted lamps and Sparrow's dirty old hat - on the steps, and ran all the way to the cabins below.

* * *

There was something so relaxing about sleeping on a hammock.

The gentle rocking of the ship on the waves swayed the hammock as well, swinging me slowly to sleep. Moonlight streamed in through the small, box-shaped window above, washing the small room in a blanket of pale. By me, a snuffed out lamp laid on its side, the fire having died when it rolled over as the ship moved upon the waves. I would have called Mr. Gibbs to relight it have I not been so lazy as to open my mouth. The cool sea breeze seeped in, the fresh smell of salt and water inundating my senses as it flowed in with the gentle draft. The sounds of waves echoed throughout, the seawater churning and grinding against the ship's side without halt or compassion. The air was cool and thin, kissing my skin gently as I closed my eyes in pleasure; the wind of earlier no longer wailed. The sea breath glided over my face and for a moment, I thought I heard singing.

Yes, singing. It was so soft at first, washing over me slowly like thin mist after a rainy day. It pierced through the thin veil of my dreams, breaking through the dense fog slowly and calmly without hesitation. The voices were many; old and powerful, passion swelling from those beautiful words. They were strong, unearthly as if it were angels that were singing out in their beautiful, melodic voices; angels that breathed out sweet breaths and whispered tales in the wind.

_Come, sister. Come to us._

_Fear not the dark of the sea._

_May the wind take you, away, away._

_For dark your future be._

All of a sudden, the hammock folded in on itself, the edges snapping upwards. My eyes sprang open and I began to scream but it was too late; the hammock closed itself on top of me, trapping me in it. I yelling and fumbled in the darkness, kicking out with my legs furiously. What the fuck was going on?!

In the tiny, dark space, I could hardly move, my arms and legs pinned to my body. As I kicked furiously, my hands went into action; my bloodied nails began to dig into the thick skin of the hammock, raking away as I yelled out again. Panic gnawed at my heart and my stomach tightened. Something was happening to me!!

"Jared!" I screamed for my brother as I continuously kicked fiercely, my knees repetitively hitting my chin. I didn't care if it hurt. One of my kicks met with something soft and wobbly on the other side of the hammock; a loud, familiar grunt followed soon after and my pulse quickened. There was someone out there! I screamed again, my nails digging harder into the thick hammock. In the tiny space, not a single ray of light shone through; I was completely trapped in an abyss. My breath became dank and my heart contracted; I needed to get out of here!

I made one last attempt to free myself, trashing and screaming about in what had to be the fiercest struggle of my life. I could taste my dinner in my mouth. Something lifted me up, pulling upwards from the top of my net and started to half-drag, half-carry me across the floor. Beyond the skin of the hammock, the wooden floorboards bumped uncomfortably beneath me as I was moved, without any grace. I was still in panic mode.

Still calling for my brother, I reached down to my belt and pulled my sword out of my holster. In the small, dark net, I could barely move; the blade slashed against my thigh as I pulled it out, stinging my skin with fire. Whatever-whoever-was pushing me had navigated me over something bumpy, jolting me painfully and rolling me over on my side. I yelled for Jared again, heart pounding in my chest. Every hair on my skin was prickling up.

I tried to dig my sword into the hammock, my arm bent in an awkward position. It wouldn't give though; the hammock was made by some kind of animal skin-most likely leather-which the sword could not penetrate at this angle. It just thudded uselessly against the hammock's skin, creating small, insignificant scratches on it. I screamed again, this time calling for every one I knew who could be on the ship; Jared, Scarlett, Mr. Gibbs and even Sparrow. My heart danced wildly as I began to be dragged up some steps, my body rolling and slamming up the steps painfully. I trashed about even more; no way in _hell_ was I going die like this, like an animal!!

I felt my breath grow short as the steps ended, my lungs wheezing out and tightening. Every muscle in my body seemed to slow down and the air in the tiny net was reeked with blood; the wounds on my fingers had reopened due to all the scratching. With whatever was left in me, I fought back, rolling and kicking and screaming.

All of a sudden, the net opened, the hammock parting to let in a wail of fresh, sea air. I yelled out in relief and triumph but it was short-lasted; next thing I knew, I was hurtling off the side of the ship, falling into the open arms of the icy, black sea.

**Thanks for all the reviews!! Once again, I promise that the next chapter will definitely include Will!!**

**XOXO**


	13. Sharks, Fists and Zombies

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**All right, everyone! This is it! This is the chapter you have all been waiting for! WILL IS HERE!! I fear this might a long one, guys, so….  
**

**Thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy!!!**

**Chapter 12**

**Sharks, Fists and Zombies.**

For a second, all was black.

Then, the cold engulfed me, wrapping itself around my body like an icy blanket. Claws of sharp cold water gashed my skin, like the claws of an animal raking across my body and turning me into ice. I could hear nothing, see nothing. All around me, darkness pressed relentlessly, squeezing and pushing against my numb body without hesitation. My ear drums were muffled, numb with cold and horror; all I could hear was the waves above my head, sloshing and crashing into one another mercilessly. My body was frozen and numb, my eyelids frozen open in a painful, relentless stare. The icy waves stung my eyes, as if the end of a poker that had just been skewered in a roaring fire had been pressed against my eyeballs and had made me blind. My lungs were tight and spasming, the muscles in my chest contracting and pushing as if they meant to burst out of me. My numb fingers went to my throat and the icy water wrapped its arms around me tighter….

Then, I was above the waves, gasping and whezzing for air. My heart relaxed and my lungs heaved in and out, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as I gulped in the clean, sea air. The cold waves slapped me repeatedly, the fresh air such a relief to my shrivelled lungs. My legs kicked in motion, pushing me above the waves as I bobbed helplessly in the churning, icy water. My entire body felt like it had been made of ice, salty sea water filling up my half-open mouth.

I looked up. Looming just over me was _Betty_, in all her glory. She rocked steadily upoon the waves, her masterful sails tugged gently by the calm breeze. Her red, flapping flag glowed in the dark, the silvery moon and its array of millions of stars casting a pale shade over the gleaming mast and its white sails. Littered all over the ship's deck were oil lamps, burning like dying stars in the dark; the wind had snuffed out a few here and there, plunging the ship into an even darker pit.

Standing on the ship's railing, staring down amusdely at me was Captain Sparrow, the yellow light of a nearby lamp washing him in a shade of gold. The rings on his long, bony fingers blended right into his skin, the yellow light making it seem as a part of wore his dark hat on his head, his long black braids spilling over his shoulders and wavering slightly in the cold wind. He gazed down at me with humored eyes, gold light playing in his dark brown pools as a thin yet firmly contented smile strechted across his face in mild amusement. Beside him, Mr. Gibbs stood silent, half-washed in the shadows. My slightly, torn hammock hung limply across his burly arms.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" I screamed, pulling all the strenght I had out of my frozen lungs to yell out those words. The ship must have been anchored for while I slowly bobbed farther and farther away from the ship, _Betty_ remained steady. The water was dark around me, the white foam of waves crashing into me without mercy. My whole body felt numb, my fingers frozen. Sparrow gazed down me calmly.

"Trust me, love," he grinned, his yellow teeth reflecting the gold light, "That ain't de worst insult I've heard!"

"You offered us safe passage!" I screamed back, helplessly swallowing seawater as I kicked continuously, "You offered safe passage on the ship if we got you your Verdad. And I did, asshole!" The waves pulled me down slightly but I fought back up, kicking fiercily away. Rage bloomed like a flower within my chest, clutching my heart.

"Like I said, love," Sparrow just smiled back at me, eyes gleaming, "I'm a pirate."

"SCREW YOU, SPARROW!" I screamed, eyes stinging and lungs gasping. I could feel my entire body begin to spasm, my arms trembling beneath the lapping waters. My metal boots weighed me down, as if giant anchors had been attached to them. The muscles in my thighs were screaming in agony, my arms numb with cold.

Something glided beneath my feet, something soft and smooth. It felt like the surface of surfboard, a thin layer of something slippery on it. Seaweed-like strands brushed across my legs, tangling between my pants-covered calves like soft silk. Barely noticeable bubbles popped up beside me, quickly dissipating into the churning waves.

_Sharks! _My mind screamed, Sparrow forgotten for a second, _Damn it! Sharks!_ My body went completely rigid, my mind and thoughts frozen. My tongue went completely dry in my mouth, a metallic taste staining the back of my throat. Above, Sparrow was shouting down at me, voice hoarse, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't care to listen. My mind cooked up images immediately, conjuring up wild fantasies that I rather have not come through. Somewhere, beneath the waves, in the looming depths, I imagined a Great White Shark circling around me. It was huge, its dorsal fin as sharp as a knife and its tail long and harsh. Rows and rows of jagged, blood-stained teeth jutted out of its massive jaw, opening into a wide, dark hole as it reached up for me…

"JOE!" Jared's voice screamed in my ear, zapping me out of my horrid nightmare with a click. I snapped my head around to see my brother's drenched head bobbing above the waves, eyes staring at me in anxiety. In the dark, his eyes looked almost black. _Like a shark's,_ I couldn't help but think, staring blankly at Jared's face. My right thigh ached, numb as hell; it was then that I remembered the slash my sword had given me in midst of my struggle earlier on. My heart froze and my blood rushed as I imagined my blood swirling out of my wound, into the sea, taunting and calling the beasts from far below-

"JOE!" my brother brought up his giant hand and striked it across my cheek, "Snap out of it! You're having a panic attack!" My head snapped back at the impact, my wet curls splashing against the waves. The sea bobbed us around carelessly, Jared's hand firmly on my shoulder. Dim yellow light from the ship shone across half his face. Behind him, in the waning moonlight, I could see the dim figure of Scarlett bobbing helplessly on the waves, her head a duller red. Her pink dress flowed around her in the dark water like a blooming flower. Beside me, Jared kicked himself afloat expertly.

"Listen to me, Joe," he put his hands on my shoulders now, somehow not putting any weight on it, "There is an island. Okay? We're going to head for it, all right?" He turned sideways in the churning waves and pointed a shivering finger into the dark. "See?"

I couldn't see. All I saw was pitch black, an abyss that stretched on for miles and miles. Waves gnawed the side of the ship, tugging and pulling at us. Above, Sparrow and Mr. Gibbs watched us in silence. I wondered if any of them had any conscience, throwing three kids into the icy cold sea like that. My mind was beginning to phase out, all logic and thought slowly fading. I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. Every part of me was numb, my tongue dry as paper. I couldn't hear anything anymore; not the sounds of the waves or the howling of the winds, not even when Jared and Sparrow began to argue furiously. Something clicked in me and for a while, nothing else mattered. Nothing else except for one word:

_........Shar-_

The next thing I know, I was being swung across Jared's shoulder, his feet making sucking sounds as they struggled up a muddy beach. Water sloshed around his ankles and as I stared down at his sand-streaked boot heels, I could little silver crabs rushing in and out of the waves, glowing under the pale moonlight. Jared was completely drenched, a long, thick arm draped along my wet back. His chest heaved in and out with loud pants; I could hear his heartbeat pounding beneath his chest. My head and arms hung limply across his shoulders and over his back; I told myself to move but nothing was working, nothing registering in my mind. My eyes stung of salt water.

"What happened?" a shrill voice cried, interrupting my attempt to move, "What happened to Joanna?" Running after Jared was a pair of pale, naked feet, splashing through the white waves. The ends of a pink dress kissing the feet, shaded by the faint moonlight, identified it as Scarlett. I tried to raise my head up, to see if it was really her, but all my head did was bounce along as Jared carried me on. Sprinkles of seawater covered my face.

"Panic attack," Jared replied in a low growl, struggling with the sand. The earth was drier now, as far as I could tell, and the water had stopped following us. Jared left dark, heavy footsteps in the sand. Behind us, Scarlett was still wading out of the waves. Jared panted heavily.

"What?!"

"She's afraid of sharks," Jared explained, quickening his pace as his feet got drier, "She panicked." The sand was becoming finer, the seashells that littered the sand reflecting the moonlight.

"But there were no sharks! I mean…there wasn't, right?"

"I don't know."

Jared laid me down on coarse earth, short blades of grass poking into my back. My eyes stayed open, staring up into the wheeling night sky. Every part of me was shivering but I barely felt the cold; I was, as I have said, numb all over. The moon glanced down at me sadly, tiny stars blinking down at me from high above. Behind me, trees rustled in the cold wind.

"Get some firewood!" Jared yelled and just as suddenly as everything had happened, darkness overcame me.

* * *

I laid back and stared at the sky for a while. I didn't want to get up. The sky hung above me in a pale blue, streaked with white clouds; it was as if someone had gone crazy with the white paint, brushing the blue sky with random strips of fluffy white. The sun was a bright white disc in the sky, blinding my eyes and glazing my skin harshly with noonday heat. Seagulls cawed above, arguing among themselves in their high-pitched voices and gliding over clouds gracefully. A gentle sea breeze blew over head, making the trees behind me shake and rustle with laughter.

Sigh.

Once again, pure bliss.

I rose into a sitting position, back aching at the effort. The sea breeze blew back my copper hair, my long curls trailing behind my shoulders. Sand clustered beneath my still bloodied fingers. Before me, the sea breathed calmly, gentle waves crashing against the pure white shore repetitively. In the noon day sunlight, it was an expanse of blue, clear blue-green waves stretching on to the horizon. Patches of dark blue here and there marked out the deeper ends, yellow beaked seagulls gliding over the smooth face of the water in hope of fish. At the horizon, the sea was indigo, rain clouds slowly gathering in a faint gray.

I turned to my left, looking down at my companions. My brother slept beside me, closed eyes staring up into the white-streaked blue sky. A long, muscular arm was draped on the sand-grass, just above his head. He laid silently on his back, legs splayed out and chest heaving in and out patiently. His face was peaceful and calm, his high cheekbones faintly reddened by the noon sun. His dark blonde hair blended in perfectly with the dry sand.

With a faint smile, I reached out an arm and brushed my fingers through his short, choppy hair. They were dry and rough, coarse as if they hadn't be washed in days…wait, they really _hadn't_ be washed in days; since the this insane adventure started, there hadn't been much time to be clean.

My fingers straggled in his hair, my tanned skin almost blending into his copper head. My smile widened. In my family, all of us had had the same dark blonde hair; we had gotten it from our father who, at the age of 44, had had a thick head of untainted dark blonde, copper hair. I had it too and so had John and Jared, one of the few things that identified us at triplets. Other then that, we were completely different beings.

With a sudden jolt of realization, I pulled my fingers out of Jared's hair, pulling them back to my chest. I had just stroked _Jared_'s hair! If he learned about it, he would have never have let me live it down. Ever. The thought striked a chord of disgust in me; I flung my hand around to get rid of any evidence of my previous act.

Beside Jared, Scarlett slept soundly, her long, red curls draping over the sand in a blanket of crimson. She looked just as lovely asleep as when she was awake; her faded pink dress spilled around her like a petal of a blooming flower. Her pale head was turned away from me, red strands covering her pink-tinged cheek. Her red lips were slightly chapped and her slender chest barely moved up and down as she breathed gently. Once again, a stab of jealously pierced my heart without thought. Between Jared and Scarlett was a small pile of red-hot ashes, last night's attempt at a fire having failed miserably. The gentle breeze stirred the ashes about, creating a faint cloud of grey ashes in the air. Strangely enough, it reminded me of Sunday mornings, in church.

Reaching out past my brother, I plucked out a yellow dandelion that grew stubbornly at the edge of the forest behind us. Trees covered the expense of the island, a dark, impenetrable jungle glaring down at us and at the sea. I wondered at its inhabitants.

The yellow dandelion broke away freely, some its yellow petals trailing to the ground. It smelled faintly of roses, a sweet, lingering scent. I pinched my thumb and index finger together and began to pluck off its petals systematically, speaking as I plucked each one off.

"Skewer him with a harpoon. Cut off his balls. Skewer him with a harpoon. Cut off his balls. Skew-…"

"What are you doing?" Scarlett's voice interrupted me, snapping my head up from the flower with a yellow petal still in my fingers. She had woken up,-why I hadn't heard her before surprises me-sitting with legs curled up in a ball. Her faint pink dress blanketed her fully, shielding her legs from the wind. Her green eyes were puffy and red, eyelids heavy with sleep. Her red hair hung limply on her shoulders, slightly more messy then it had been last night; tiny sand particles dotted her red head. Jared snored softly beside me.

"Choosing how Sparrow's going to die," I answered simply, smiling at her wearily. The wind blew harder against my face, whipping my hair back. Scarlett just stared at me blankly.

"There's something wrong with you," she decided, green eyes staring into mine, "Really." Her cheeks were red from the sun's hot glare.

"You're right," I agreed, nodding my head and tossing the dandelion over my shoulder, "I'll do both. Skewer him, and then cut off his balls."

Scarlett just rolled her eyes and with a heavy sigh, got to her feet. Even with me sitting down on the sand, she looked tiny, like a little pink faerie. Her green eyes roved over the expanse of the sea, over the tumbling blue waves and the white-streaked sky. Finally, after a moment or two of silence, she spoke.

"Did you, by any chance, see any ships? Navy ships?"

"Nope," I replied, dusting the yellow dandelion petals from my lap, "Not since the last five minutes."

"And before that?"

"I was asleep."

"Oh."

Her pretty face screwed up slightly and her delicate, pale hand reached back and patted down her flying scarlet hair. The wind pulled back her pink dress like a faded banner. Once again, I felt the green fire of jealousy rage within me. It wasn't _fair_. What kind of God created beautiful girls like Scarlett alongside with chesty, heavy-boned freaks like me?! Why did some girls get to be so pretty and get all the boys while the others look like werewolves, unkempt and shaggy?! WHY?!

_And this is why you don't have and girl friends,_ a little voice whispered in the back of my head, _this is why you always have to hang around loser-boys_. I shook my head clear of these thoughts as Scarlett began to speak again.

"Last night," she turned back to me slightly, red curls kissing her cheeks, "What happened to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, even though I definitely did.

"Jared said you were afraid of sharks," Scarlett tried again; olive eyes large and round, "Were there sharks in the water last night?"

I remembered the smooth, hard surface I had struck with my foot in the water and my entire body shivered, despite the noon day heat. A reminder of last night's events-the choppy waves, the icy cold water, Sparrow looking down at me, the imaginary shark-flashed across my eyes in a quick zap. I shivered again.

"Seriously red head," I looked up at her with a lazy smile, "I have no idea what you're talking about." With a sigh and another roll of her eyes, Scarlett gave up and turned back to the ocean. Seagulls argued continuously over head, a pair perched on a nearby rock squabbling away. The gray clouds at the horizon had become darker, slowly moving forward. The sea smelled heavenly. I had gotten bored and was plucking away at the grass when Scarlett spoke again.

"Drat that Sparrow!" she cursed, the harsh words sounding weird with her sweet voice, "I should have known better then to trust a pirate!"

"Tell me about it," I agreed, forgetting the grass and falling on my back, "I should have known from the start that he was bound to maroon us somewhere. Pirates…they're sneaky little bastards, huh?" From the corner of my eye, I saw Scarlett turn back to me. I tucked both my arms beneath my head, like a makeshift pillow. My elbow poked Jared's upper arm; he didn't stir.

"What do you mean?" she asked, voice genuinely surprised, "You're not a pirate?" I half-raised my body to glare at her.

"Weren't you listening to anything that happened last night?!" I gritted my teeth, anger flaring again, "I am not a pirate! And neither is Jared!"

"Alright, alright!" Scarlett raised her hands out in a defensive act, "I get it. You're not a pirate. I was just checking."

"Why on earth so?! 'Cause I act like one?!"

"Well…you _are _wearing pants."

"Like father, like daughter," I muttered to myself in a humourless laugh, still gritting my teeth. The wind whipped my hair back again, knotting it even farther. Beside me, Jared turned on his side, still snoring.

"What?" Scarlett looked at me in alarm, eyes bulging. She looked so tiny against the great sea. I waved her concern away, sinking back down on my back.

"Awww, its nothing," I assured her, anger dissipating as fast as it had appeared, "I met your father at Port Royal. That's all."

"You did?!" Scarlett's mouth was slightly open, cheeks flushed. Her dark eyelashes quivered.

"Yup!" I said, stretching my arms above me with a yawn, "He was real nice. A real, hardcore fan. Practically begged me for my autograph, even though he knew I don't mingle with fans on holidays." Out of the corner of my eyes, Scarlett looked at me as if I had two heads. Before she could speak, I gave out a low chuckle. All anger of before had vanished into thin air.

"Nah," I smiled to the blue sky, "He just put into prison for my pants. Completely undemocratic, if you ask me." Scarlett shook her lovely red head, padding across the sand towards me. I bet that if I stood up and look, there wouldn't have been any footprints.

"Prison…."she said blankly, voice soft, "I don't understand…my father would never…" She broke off, looking deeply confused. Deep wrinkles set into her pretty forehead as she frowned in bewilderment, lips parted slightly. I couldn't help but a little sorry for her.

"He was cranky, you see," I said, hoping it helped somehow, "He thought we were pirates."

"Are you?"

"NO!!"

"Then, what _are_ you?!" she cried out, exasperated, "What are you if you're not pirates?!"

"Teenagers."

"I'm serious, Joanna," she looked down at me grimly, red lips set in a thin line, "I had asked Jared when you both had come from…when you were asleep on the ship. He dried up immediately when I brought it up." Beside us, Jared snorted in his sleep, as if in agreement. Still on my back, I raised my pants-covered legs up, forming a perfect perpendicular with my body; I narrowly missed kicking Scarlett in the face. The trees rustled behind us again, a coconut tree just above us shaking its fruits dangerously; I couldn't help but wish for but one hard-shelled coconut to fall to us, its thick husk full of sweet, tasty juice.

"Ok, ok," I said with a sigh, moving my mid-air legs in a cycling motion, "I'll tell you. We're from the future."

"WHAT?!" Scarlett glared down at me as if I had two heads and six eyes.

"Yup," I nodded my head against the sand, my neck brushing against the short blades of grass harshly, "You see, Jared and I had this attic. And normally, we don't go up there. But, since we were moving, we had to sell our stuff off. So I went up there to get this lamp and Jared followed; he is a worshipper, you see, and needs to follow me everywhere. Anyway, in the attic there was this painting the-…"

_Ba-dump._

I paused in my speech, mouth hanging open. The sound had been muffled, soft under the sounds of the rushing waves. It sounded distant yet near, as if I was sitting on it or something.

_Ba-dump._

"Do you hear that?" I sat up, looking at Scarlett with wide eyes. The red head just stared at me as if I was insane. Maybe I was. Yet, I hadn't imagined the sound. It _was _there. An irksome thudding like someone hammering into the wall with a sledge hammer. A loud yet muffled sound that pricked up my ears, goose bumps tickling my skin.

_Ba-dump._

"What sound?" Scarlett asked cautiously, taking a step back from me. Her pale feet were covered in dry sand, the ends of her dress darkened with dirt. Without another word, I leaned down to the earth, pressing an ear against the sand. My hands steadied me above the ground, my chest brushing the short-bladed grass.

_Ba-dump_.

"_That_ sound," I answered her, the sound vibrating through the ears, "Its coming from the ground." From above, Scarlett's short shadow protected me from the noon sun's harsh light, her pink frock dancing in the wind. Beside me, Jared rolled over again.

_Ba-dump._

"I don't hear anything," Scarlett replied, looking down at me with concerned eyes. She bit her lower lips with anxiety. _She thinks I'm crazy_, I realized, glaring back up at her, ear still pinned to the ground. My heart jolted slightly.

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

"Whatever are you talking about?" I snapped at the pretty red head, "its right there! Like the beating of drums or something!" The instant thought of cannibals flooded my mind but I shook it away; the sound was coming from the ground, as if whatever was making the noise was _buried_ beneath the sand. I began to paw forward, ears still pressed to the earth. The hot sand burned against my skin, stinging it red.

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

"Jared, wake up!" Scarlet was yelling as I crept forward, face-down. The sound increased in volume as I moved forward, uniform and repetitive much like the beat of hip hop music. My legs dragged against the sand, the boot-claded feet but lifeless objects behind me. I moved with my hands, like an animal, ears always pinned to the ground. My heart was beating in sync with the sound.

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

It was right beneath me now, vibrating against my ear like the thudding of drums. It was loud and endless in my ear, vibrating through my hands and sending shivers up my spine. There was something about the sound, something that made my heart freeze in its place and my brain numb with thought.

It sounded like the beating of a heart.

My hands dug into the dry sand, dried blood still coating my fingertips. They left clumps of red in the fine grains as I dug the sand, thin and slippery. Behind me, I heard Jared call out my name groggily but I ignored him; I kept on digging and digging until finally, through the hot grains of sand, my fingertips brushed something cold. Something hard. Something metal. Something vibrating.

_Ba-dump. -dump._

Heaving my hands deeper into the earth and with a low grunt of effort, I pulled out the metal object from the sand, tiny brown grains littering all over my feet and lap. It was a metal chest, a small box of hard, black metal that shone like dark fire in the harsh sunlight. It was worn with age, its dark engravings of ships and seas blemished and whitened around the edges. A large keyhole sat in the chest's center, dark and smooth down with years; tiny barnacles and dried seaweed clung onto the metal box flimsily. Something pulsed away from within, sending shivers of anxiety through my body and prickling my hair up.

_Ba-dump._

"Joe," my brother whined behind me, his voice getting louder and louder as he approached me, "What are you doing now?" His sleepy face blocked out the sun, dark shadows hanging above his sullen cheeks. His hair was a mess, a scruff of coppery threads brushed here and there with sand and grass. His pale blue eyes looked down at me dazedly, as if he was only still half awake. Behind him, Scarlett stood silent; biting her lower lip-she must have been the one that had awakened Jared. Still clutching the chest, I smiled up at my brother.

"Look what I found!" I said triumphantly, half-raising the black chest up to show them. The chest still vibrated, the low thudding still echoing from within. Jared's sleepy eyes widened slightly.

"Where did you get that?"

"In the ground," I showed him, gesturing to my little dig site that sat at my bowled-over knees, "It was buried here."

"Buried?" Scarlett's olive eye widened dramatically, "Who would…how you even knew it was here?" She knelt down to the ground, opposite me, her pale little hands brunching up her long dress into a messy, crumpled bundle. She stared at the metal black chest in wonder. Above, Jared made no comments.

"Because I heard it!" I couldn't help but hiss, glaring at the smaller girl opposite me, "See?" I lifted the light chest and pushed it near to her ear, the fingers holding on to it brushing gently against her red hair. She leaned closer to the chest and I saw, with triumph, her eyes widened with surprise as the box thudded on. The beat was consistent, vibrating against my hand. I began to wonder if it was the _box_ that was vibrating on its own, and not what was in it. How _that_ was possible was yet another mystery.

"Oh gosh!" Scarlett's pale hand flew up to her mouth, "its beating!"

"Still think I'm crazy?!" I sneered at her in reply, pulling the chest back to me. I felt oddly happy. I WASN'T CRAZY!!! Scarlett's pale cheeks turned to a fiery red, as red as her hair, her scarlet lips parting slightly in embarrassment.

"I never-…"

"Can you open it?" Jared cut her off, as if she had never spoken. He still hovered above us, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun. His blue eyes, which had been foggy a few minutes ago, was now sharp and alert, staring down at me attentively. The sea wind bristled past again, the smell of the ocean rich and pure in the air.

I grabbed the edge of the chest and tried to force it open but to no avail; despite its worn out look and rusted hinges, the chest was still as strong and solid as it had probably been all its life. The chest still thudded with life, never stopping for a breath. I shook my head up at him.

"No," I said, "It seems locked or something."

"Then, put it back."

"What?!" I stared incredulously at him, my legs slowly straightening up into a stand. Opposite me, Scarlett stood up as well, not saying a word.

"It might be someone's, Joe," Jared stared back at me calmly, his voice picking up the adult, mature tone that I hated so much, "Someone might have left it here, for safe-keeping or something." I felt my eyes widened at him.

"Really, Jared?!" I yelled loudly, flinging the hand that did not clutch the chest, "Do you see anyone else around here?!" The wind picked up my voice, echoing my shout over the tumbling waves and past the thick forest. Seagulls called out in surprise at my shout, the trees seeming to wave about in response. Scarlett stood silent, watching us with dark eyes.

"Someone…from somewhere else," Jared started, impatience creeping into his voice, "They must have landed here and buried th-…"

"Well, it's their lost then," I snapped back in reply, cradling the cold chest against me and glaring at Jared, "Finders, keepers. Losers, weepers!"

"Stop acting like a kid!"

"No, I won't! Not until you stop acting like you've got your pants on too tight!"

"I'm only being responsible, Joe! Someone's got to be responsible around here!"

"No one asked you to, Jared! No one asked you to be Dad!"

And that was it. Before I knew it, Jared and I were rolling about on the sand, fist and legs flying about, hitting each other. My free hand sailed at his face repetitively, knuckles slamming down hard against bone over and over again. We both yelled out as we fought, Jared's right leg kicking my stomach sharply, doubling me over with a stab of pain. His hands pulled at my hair, squeezing a scream out of me as salty tears flooded into my eyes and down my cheeks. I wasn't going to let him win though. With a burst of rage, I released the vibrating chest and went for my brother's throat, my hands straggling around his thick neck, nails digging into his skin. He yelled out in pain, his kicking legs striking my ribcage. In the distance, Scarlett screamed for us to stop but nothing else mattered anymore; an unexplainable desire to kill my brother overcame me and with a war cry, I kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him rolling over me and onto the sand, writhing in pain. But it wasn't the end of it. Without a roar, he lunged at me again; blue eyes an insane white, fist sailing towards my face. My legs snapped up, kneeing him in his stomach; his fist made contact with my cheekbone-

Scarlett screamed.

This time, for some reason, Jared and I looked back at her, fists and legs frozen in air. But Scarlett wasn't staring at us. Her face was a white sheet, pure horror flashing across her face as she gazed out to the sea. Snapping my head to the left, I followed her gaze.

Tearing out of the surface of the ocean, out of the calm, tumbling white waves with a roar, was a ship. That's right. A ship. It sprang out of the deep blue, like a whale jumping out of the water; sea water streaming down from its black mast in thick gushes. Wet pale sails sprang up into the air, water crashing down from them like gallons and gallons of teardrops. Seagulls scattered at the sight of it, jumping back up into the air and screeching out irritably. The wind cried out in horror as the ship settled onto the calm waves, seawater flying everywhere.

I froze. Every part of me froze. There I lay, beneath my brother's massive weight, arms and legs in mid air, completely _frozen_. This wasn't possible. Absolutely not. Ships don't spring out of the water like that, not completely intact anywhere. It was just _impossible_. Yet there it was, sitting calmly on the waves now, streams of water gushing down its dark brown side and back into the sea. On the front of the ship, its name was painted in faded white, chipped and cracked.

_The Flying Dutchman._

Jared sprang off me. Without a word, he wheeled on his heels and ran to where Scarlett stood, frozen and small; she still stared at the ship as if it were a monster, about to eat her up. I didn't blame her. Scrambling to my feet, I didn't take my eyes off the ship. It was large and looming, larger then _Betty _had ever been. The deck seemed empty though, almost as if the ship was some kind of a ghost manifestation. Every hair on my back prickled to a razor sharp and my tongue went dry.

Dusting my pants of sand, I gingerly walked forward to pick up the fallen chest. My eyes kept on the silent ship as my trembling hands plucked the chest from the sand, the box still thudding away. Everything was silent. With a shivering breath, I clutched the chest and ran across the hot sand.

Jared was standing by Scarlett, both of them staring at the ship with wide eyes. Grains of sand dotted half of Jared's face, a deep purple setting over his left eye. I noted it with some sense of triumph. At least I had managed to hurt him properly in our fist-fight, and not just the other way round; despite the shock, my body ached as if it were on fire. By the time I had reached them, panting away, Scarlett was already talking; her breath came out short and soft, her chest frozen in its place.

"…but a legend. Nothing more then a legend. It's…I-It's impossible!"

"What legend?" my brother murmured in reply, staring at the ship with wide, blue eyes. Still, all was silent. The ship sat near the shore, above one of the dark blue patches in the blue-green waters. Even now, nothing stirred on the deck of the ghost ship, all quiet and dead. No birds cawed over head and the wind had stopped roaring, leaving the air still and stagnant. Despite the noonday heat, an icy chill was creeping into the air, slithering its way up my spine. My breath felt ragged.

"The Flying Dutchman," Scarlett whispered, breath caught in her throat. She stared wide-eyed at the ship, face so pale that I could see her blue veins of her temple branching out beneath her skin. Her red lips trembled slightly, her entire body as still as a statue. The chest thudded along with my heart.

"Well, thank you, Captain Obvious!" I snapped at her, whipping my head to face the petite girl, "I can read. We all can read. The name of the ship's right there!"

Jared pried his eyes away from the silent ship to glare at me, blue eyes but slits in his face. The bruise over his eye had blossomed into an angry purple, his chapped lips bleeding slightly.

Am I a good fighter or what?!

"Shut up," he hissed in a low, dangerous voice. His teeth were gritted in a furious snarl. _He's still mad_, I realized, staring up at him defiantly, _even though I have completely forgotten what exactly we were fighting about_. Anger bubbled beneath my skin like a giant whirlpool and once again, I felt a desire to lunge forward and carry on our fight. Thank God, Scarlett spoke again before we could do anything.

"It's a legend," she whispered again, a hand trailing to clench over her heart as she stared up in horror at the looming ship, "A bed time story my mother used to tell me."

"Mind sharing it with us, doll?" I asked, ignoring my brother and turning back to the ship. It didn't looked anchored yet somehow, it stayed where it was; bobbing steadily above the calm waves. The harsh noon day sunlight reflected upon the ship's wet surface, licking it dry. Still, no sign of life.

"The Flying Dutchman," she carried on, voice dry and eyes wide, "is a ship. A ghost ship that…t-that according to legend, helps carry those who die at sea to…wherever. It never p-ports and…it's _impossible_."

"Well, obviously not," I said, heart dancing. My fingers tightened around the chest, the beating of within trembling my heart. I suddenly felt like dying.

Then, I saw a life.

Up on the deck, as if out of no where, figures of black appeared, rushing about in a frantic hurry. I felt my throat caught at the sight of them, my heart jolting to life. It wasn't a ghost ship, after all! Beside me, Scarlett gave out a gasp. The figures I thought to be men rushed to their different stations, some to the mast and some to the side of the ship-but of course, they were men! I mean, what else could they be?!

Just normal, underwater-breathing men.

Before I knew what was going on, a small boat was lowered into the water, from the side of the ship. It was long and narrow, designed to fit at least 10 men. It dropped down to the waves hastily, the dark figures lowering it with ropes. Warmth was returning back to my body as I stared at the ship; despite the fierce sunlight, I couldn't see the men's faces. Something blocked their features, as if I was standing behind a fogged screen and staring out at them. They were all a blur-this was so strange, seeming as in the noon day light, everything should have been crystal clear. As I watched, the dark figures began to climb down the side of the massive ship. They scurried down a dangling rope ladder and like cats, landed smoothly on the bobbing boat without losing their balance. I still could not see their faces. Up above, leaning over the ship's side, I could see one of the men looking down at us forlornly; his face was fogged out too.

"They're coming for us!" Jared bit on his lips, taking a step back. His hands were clenched at his side, his eyes drawn open in panic.

"Great!" I smiled, despite myself, "Maybe they can help us." I raised a bruised hand and waved at the strangers; I don't think they saw it though. The men on the boat were busying themselves, settling the oars. Up above, the ship's deck, other dark figures scurried about, anchoring the giant ship and pulling down its sails. There was still no wind; sweat was beginning to creep down my back, making my shirt stick to my damp skin. The chest still thudded against my heart.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" Jared yelled at me, glaring at me as if I was insane, "THEY'RE GOING TO KILL US!!" His cheeks were red now, nails digging into his palms.

"We don't know that!" I argued back, snapping my head around to return the glare. My teeth were gritted in a snarl.

"THEY-JUST-CAME-OUT-OF-THE-WATER!!"

"Now, that's just prejudice."

"THA-…"

"Enough!" Scarlett's sharp voice cut through our argument, her red head spinning away from the ship to glare at us. All sense of horror and disbelief at seeing the fabled ship had dissipated from her face, like smoke drifting on the wind. Her pretty face was now set in a scowl, green eyes flashing at us.

"Enough already! Don't you see we have a bigger problem?!"

"No!" I turned my glare at the red head, muscles tensing, "I don't see a problem. All I see is a bunch of people with a ship…they can help us!" Out at sea, the boat full of men was beginning to row forward, in our direction. The men rowed in sync, oars cutting in and out of the waves repetitively. A sole man stood at the front of the boat, staring out at us with dead eyes; as they got nearer, I could see them more clearly. They looked just like every other pirate I had come across the past week; shabby, dark-clothed and filthy. Except for the fact that they were completely drenched.

"Jared's right," Scarlett said, eyes returning to glance at the approaching boat with horror, "This ship…in the story, Joe…they're supposed to be _dead_." Jared's face was still a beet red but now he ignored me, staring out at the ship and the boat with dawning anxiety. I knew that he itched to run.

"It's just a story."

"They just came out of the water, Joe. I have never seen anyone…"

"Look," I snapped at her, teeth grinding against one another, "I don't know about you but I am dying to get off this rat-assed island. So, unless you plan on staying out here forever, I suggest we cooperate with them. Dead or not." Somehow, those words seemed like the sanest thing I had said and done in a while.

"But-…" my brother began but never got to finish; the long, narrow boat full of the strangers had reached the shore, grinding into the mushy sand with force. Upon impact, the dark figures jumped out of the boat immediately, discarding their oars. The boat came to a standstill as it dug into a mountain of wet sand, holding it against the pulling of the tide. Jumping out into the shallow waves, the dark figures abandoned their boat, rushing out of the water towards drier land. The ship loomed behind them patiently.

Up close, I could see their faces clearly. They were ordinary looking men, with tanned, gaunt faces and leechy, wet hair that dangled out of their soaked hats lifelessly. Their drenched clothes stuck to their skin, water dripping off them and onto the dry sand as they scurried up the beach. Their dull boots left deep impressions in the sand, moistening it into a thick mess. For some reasons, my stomach turned at the sight of them. I don't why. Something just radiated off them as they approached, something sickening yet sweet. Something like a dead flower, rotting in the sun.

Something dead.

"Say ye name!" one of the pirates yelled as he neared us, drawing out his thin rapier, "Quickly, now!" He was the man that had stood at the front of the boat, the man with dead eyes. He had to be at least 55, though the hair that straggled out his hat was black as night. Wrinkles adorned his pale, wet face. Behind him, the other men scurried forward, drawing out their swords as well. Jared gulped beside me.

"Queen Elizabeth," the words tumbled out of my mouth helplessly, without hesitation. Once again, my arcane sense of sarcasm clouded over my better judgment. Jared inhaled in a sharp breath, chest freezing in its place. Scarlett had gone an even paler white.

The man stared at me sternly, like how my Math teacher back home always did when she found me asleep during lesson. His dark, black eyes contrasted greatly with his pale, greasy skin. The blade was steady in his hand, hanging at his side. My heart started to do a little jig.

"Ye got a smart mouth there, lass," the man growled, frowning his dark eyes at me, "Ye better keep it shut."

"Now, wait just-…"

Jared cut me off, wrapping a large, sweaty hand over my face and clamping my mouth. My breath went short and I glared up at him furiously; his blue eyes were glowering back at me, the blue-black becoming darker and darker. I tried to fight back but Jared's other hand was already grabbing my arm, his nails digging into my skin. Scarlett licked her lips anxiously beside us.

"Excuse my sister," Jared looked up from me to stare at the pirates, "Her brain has no filter." The other pirates screwed up their faces in confusion and one had opened his mouth to speak when the old man with pale skin spoke again, voice hoarse and low.

"Where did you get the chest?"

With Jared's hand still clamped over my mouth, my eyes instantly dropped. The metal, thudding chest was still in my hand, pressed against my stomach for support. It gleamed dully in the harsh sunlight, the beating sounds vibrating against my body. The noon day heat had made the metal hotter, biting through my still-bloodied fingers. Somehow, by some instinct, I found my hand gripping the chest even more tightly.

"What's it to you?" Jared asked, his voice shaking slightly. His hand was sweaty above my mouth; I wanted to shrink away in disgust. Scarlett seemed to inch nearer to us, hands holding the sides of her pink dress. My heart could pretty much jump out of my chest. The pirate stared at the chest for a second or so before raising his cold, dead eyes to mine.

"Ye better come with us."

* * *

"Don't say anything, ok?" Jared hissed down at me as he offered his hand. Without a reply, I took it; I struggled up from the dangling rope ladder and onto the wooden deck, thighs burning from the strain. Jared's hands were coarse as he pulled me up, hoisting me onto the wooden floorboards with some struggle. Beads of sweat glided down his tanned face.

"What that's supposed to mean?" I raised an eyebrow as my feet met the floor of the ship, thudding dully. In the nook of my arm, the black metal chest throbbed gently, red hot in the noon day heat. Every part of me felt sticky and wet, as if I had just ran a marathon. Behind me, the pirates made their way up the rope ladder like monkeys.

"Just don't, alright?" Jared narrowed his eyes at me as he let go of my arms, drawing back his hands to his sides, "Let me do the talking." His lips were still set in an angry scowl. Around us, at every corner of the ship's deck, pirates of all ages watched us silently as if we were a spectacle to enjoy. They looked just like the pirates on the boat; tanned, sullen and quiet. They too were drenched, water droplets dripping like nails onto the wooden floorboards. Wet clothes stuck to their skin, algae and moss growing on their boots and belts. Black, cold eyes stared at us, unmoving and emotionless.

This was _way_ creepy.

_The Flying Dutchman_ was big. Bigger then _Betty_. It was made out of dark wood, strong and sturdy beneath our feet. Wet white sails hung above us against the blue sky, dripping salty drops onto us like a slight drizzle. High above, the white disc of a sun glared fiercely down, licking the wet wood dry. A thin film of moss covered the wood, barnacles and seaweed leeching onto the ship's side. The air smelt of salt, stale and stagnant in the still air.

"Move on a' head," the old men with dead eyes urged me forward with the hilt of his rapier, the icy metal poking painfully into my back. I yelped a little at its cold touch and stepped forward, boots crunching against the moss-covered floor. Something told me not to mess with this guy. He strode past me, his black boots stomping against the wooden floorboards. Up above, no seagulls called.

"Get the Captain," the man growled to one of the pirates near the mast, his face an emotionless mask, "Tell him he's got to get up here. Now." Behind me, Jared was helping Scarlett up the side of the ship; it was my brother who had insisted that Scarlett be the last to climb up the ladder to the deck, seeming as she was wearing a dress. Her wavy red head bobbed in view at the side of the ship, pale hands reaching out for Jared's. I wondered at the look of her face.

"Aye, sir," the faceless man at the mast nodded in reply and without another word, dashed towards the cabins. Surprisingly, he didn't slip on the wet, moss-carpeted floor. Behind me, the pirates that had been in the smaller boat surrounded me in a semi-circle, as if blocking me from the side of the ship. Their faces were unreadable, blank and staring like statues. An icy breath crept up my spine, despite the humidity.

This was way, _way _creepy.

"So…" I said, gazing at the old man with dead eyes, "I'm guessing you're not the Captain, then." Around us, the pirates were silent. One of the pirates, a weasel-looking young guy near the helm, puffed away at a pipe; how he managed to do that, as wet as he was, was a mystery to me indeed. The old man with dead eyes turned his calm, irksome gaze at me.

"No, lass," he narrowed his eyes until they were but black slits in his face, "I'm not." Somewhere, behind me, Jared hissed for me to shut up but I ignored him; I was still mad at him. Scarlett's demure voice whispered in the stale air. The chest thudded away in my arm.

"Ooookay then," I grinned half-heartedly, throwing my gaze on the other somber pirates, "Awkwarddd…." My teeth bit painfully down into my lower lip as I said this, breath slipping in and out of my mouth slowly. Beneath my skin, my heart was racing wildly. I drew the black chest towards my body and cradle it in my arms.

"Why did you bring us here?!" Jared's loud voice sliced the silence like a knife, harsh and demanding. Turning around, I saw that he stood near the side of the ship, a muscles jumping in his tight jaw. His hands were clenched at his sides. Beside him, Scarlett stood silent, green eyes wide.

"You know why," one of the pirates croaked in reply, a dirty-looking fellow with a thick, unruly beard.

"We've already told you," I cut in before my brother could continue, fingers gripping the black chest even more tightly, "We found the chest. It's not ours."

"Where?" the old man with dead eyes glared at me, lips slowly drawing back into a thin line, "Where did you find the chest?"

"Like we said," Jared growled, "In the ground." His long arms crossed themselves over his chest-his usual gesture of defiance. His blue eyes flashed dangerously, narrowing slightly from the sun's glare. The bruise over his left eye was a mixture of red, purple and blue; somehow, now, I was regretting our fight. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face.

"Nay, Mr. Turner!" another pirate from up in the helm cried out, a bottle of rum swinging in his hand, "That can't be right!"

"Aye, sir," the bearded pirate spoke again, nodding his dirty little head, "Miss Elizabeth would ne'ver have buried it here, sir. Not in some god-forsaken piece of-"

"Right, Black Beard!" a voice shouted from the farther end of the deck, hoarse and scratchy, "As if ye knew eve'ry thing about de Captain's wife!"

"Shut yer pie hole, Anderson! Yer yerself don't know anything 'bout-…"

"That's enough," a voice spoke out suddenly, cutting through the quarrel and silencing everyone. It was a strong voice, booming over the stale air in an authoritative tone. Instinctively, my eyes rolled over to the old man with dead eyes, but it wasn't he who had spoken. It wasn't his voice.

Standing at the open cabin door was a man. A young man, barely in his 20s. His skin was a golden orange, tanned dark in the relentless sun. Strands of wet, dark brown hair straddled the sides of his angular face, the dark curls kissing his high cheekbones faintly. The rest of his hair hung limply on his broad shoulders, held up by a black bandana that was strapped across the top of his head. He was a slender man, his arms and legs as long as the limbs of trees. Tanned muscles rippled beneath his dripping maroon shirt as he moved, an odd gold medallion flashing dangerously against his naked chest. Dark brown eyes stared out of his sharp face, hard and cold as ice.

_He's handsome_, I thought with some surprise as the man moved forward, out of the cabin's doorway. He wasn't like the other pirates; unlike his crew, he was ruggedly good-looking. His upper lip sported a thin moustache, like a dark brown caterpillar over his lips. He grew a small beard on his chin-somehow, this made him look older then he probably was. His features were sharp yet smooth, his skin as thick and as firm as leather. A sudden urge to reach out and brush back one of his dark curls seized me, and trust me when I say that it took a lot of effort to hold it down.

"Captain," the old man with dead eyes acknowledged the young man, watching his intently as the latter moved across the deck. He moved like a panther, silent and sturdy against the rocking of the ship. The once eerie calm that had enveloped the pirates on board returned, sweeping over all of them instantly. My heart jumped; suddenly, I wanted Jared beside me.

"Well, what do we have here?" the handsome young man spoke calmly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His slender hands rested carelessly on his thin belt, somehow gently shaking the sheathed swords that hung from it. Below his left hand, a gun stuck out, covered in a thin film of algae. Tiny water droplets fell from him, soaking into the wooden floorboards.

For a second, no one spoke as the man's cold eyes roved over us, as if inspecting. His smile widened slightly when his gaze fell on Scarlett, who leaned against the side of the ship- creating a little dimple at the side of his mouth. Perhaps he thought her pretty. His smile hardened, however, when his gaze fell on Jared; a muscle jumped in his tightly clamped jaw, as if the sight of my brother somehow disturbed him. Finally, after a staring battle with Jared, the handsome young man pulled his eyes away from Jared and onto me.

Even today, I cannot explain what occurred then. Upon the sight of me, the handsome man's face suddenly softened. The muscles that clenched his jaw tightly loosened as his eyes got a little wider, his dark long eyelashes blinking rapidly. A fire blossomed in the dark pools of his eyes and something flashed across his face, something unfamiliar and strange. A peculiar emotion just swiped across his features, turning his cold, hard stare into something I just couldn't decipher.

Something sad.

"My name is Captain William Turner, Lord of the Seas," the man spoke now, prying his eyes away from me and hardening his face once again, "You are welcome abroad my ship." For some reasons, the metal chest was beginning to beat even more quickly against my heart. My arms wrapped around it even more tightly. Jared raised his head up at the captain with a defiant look in his baby blues. Beside him, Scarlett held his hand tightly; face as pale as a ghost's.

"Thank you, Captain," Jared nodded at the older man gingerly, jaws tight, "Your invitation is sincere. Even though we did not request it." He spoke in that irritating tone again; the one that he thought made him sound like an adult. This time though, there was a pinch of anger in his voice. I wanted to go back to him, to the side of the ship with him. However, for some reason, my legs were as heavy as lead. Thick droplets of sweat glided down my skin.

"What's your name, lad?" the Captain inquired, raising a delicate eyebrow. There was something quite soft and angelic about his features. Around us, the pirates were silent, staring intently. The old man with dead eyes looked like a statue of stone beside me, a statue of pallor and cold.

"My name is Jared Wolfe," Jared gulped, his free hand-the one that didn't hold Scarlett's hand-clenched in a fist. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he continued, his blue eyes falling on me.

"And this is…are my sisters, Joanna Wolfe and Sc-…Scarlett Wolfe." He said this hesitantly, wandering his gaze from me to Scarlett beside him. My insides gnawed against my skin. What on earth was Jared doing, faking Scarlett as our sister?! I made to speak out and rebut this but the little voice, in the corner of my mind, told me to shut the fuck up.

"I see," the Captain's cold smile widened without humour, his long, clever fingers tugging at his belt hoops, "And how do you suppose you got that chest?"

"For the 100th time," Jared gritted his teeth together, lips drawing back into a snarl, "We found the chest, alright?!"

"Found it?"

"Yes!! Like I said, we found it buried in the ground!"

"Buried?" the Captain's face screwed up that, a confused glint alighting in his eyes, "You sure?" His thin lips were pulled down in a slight frown now, cheeks turning a dark red under the flaming light of the sun. A cool breeze bristled by all of a sudden, washing a relieving cold over us all. My hair whipped back slightly, dancing into one of the pirate's face.

"Trust me," I answered before my brother could, pretty much without thinking, "I'm sure." At this, Captain Turner gazed back at me. The emotion of before, the peculiar sadness, had left his eyes only to be replaced by a growing curiosity. He removed his slender hands from his belt and folded it across his mid-section, almost casually. The frown still danced on his face. The chest was piking hot against my skin, throbbing away like faded drum beats. My stomach lurched, for no reason. The Captain made to open his mouth and speak but the old man with dead eyes stopped him unconsciously, speaking out in a hoarse voice.

"And how exactly did yer all even get on dis island? Yer live here?" A general, low rumble of amusement followed his comment, the pirates turning to one another to talk and gossip. He just mocked us!! The Captain turned back to the old man with a reproachful look but I was already speaking again, slight anger bubbling beneath my skin.

"No, sir," I said with a mockingly polite voice, teeth biting into every word, "We don't live here. We were marooned, you see. By that son of a bitch Sparrow." At this, all chatter died. Faces turned back to me, tanned and soaked with sweat and water. The wind whistled by again, licking the sweat off my skin and relieving my heated up body. I couldn't help but long to take a cool dip into the sea, just for fun. Across from me, Captain Turner was looking at me again, eyes widened in surprise.

"Sparrow?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Is it even possible for someone to look that adorable?!

"Yes," I nodded back, biting my lower lip, "Captain Sparrow. The Captain with no ship." At the side of the ship, Jared was glaring at me, shooting warning stares as if to dare me to speak nonsense. Scarlett looked utterly terrified beside him. The pirates watched on, silent again. Someone coughed hoarsely.

"Sparrow…" Captain Turner furrowed his eyebrows at me, lips sinking into a slight frown, "As in the dumb idiot who sputters nonsense, stabs friends in their back's and walks around all day half-drunk?" He said the last bit a little bitterly, in my opinion. His hands fell from his chest and back down to the belt, his thumbs twiddling the belt hoops. The sails flew back as the wind pulled again, dripping a shower of seawater over us all. I didn't mind it though.

"Yup," I nodded my head again at the captain, my eyes meeting his, "That sounds like him." A sea wind blew my loose shirt back, pulling up my blouse to reveal my bandaged stomach. The chest vibrated against me still, somehow matching with my heartbeat. The noon day sun was relentless on us, harsh and sharp as knives.

For a moment or two, no one spoke, not even the seagulls. All eyes fell on me, some on the metal chest in my hands. Nonetheless, all was silent. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Captain Turner spoke up, voice firm and solid.

"I think we better talk."

**That's it! End of chapter 12!! Hope you all liked it…even though it was tediously long….**

**So, like I promised, Will is here!!! Sorry for making you guys wait so long!! If anyone has any ideas on how the story should be improved, please leave reviews for me!! Thanks!!**

**XOXO**


	14. The Sharing of Tales

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**And as a response to StupidPyroChan, I am glad that you find Joe retarded because that is exactly how she is suppose to act. I tried to make her very immature. However, throughout the story, Joe will start to mature. I promise that.**

**ENJOY!!!**

**Chapter 13**

**The Sharing of Tales**

When I was but a child, all I wanted was adventure. Every Saturday, Stevie, Reid, Jasper, Johnny and I would hike up to Crystal Lake, the large body of water that bordered our little town. We would pretend to explorers, like Indiana Jones looking for lost buried treasure or rescuing the pathetic damsel in distress. It was a perilous journey. Every ditch was a wide canyon and every mud puddle, treacherous pits of quicksand. Even the animals were not spared from our tyranny; wayward deers became ferocious lions. Everything was an excuse for an adventure, a chance to be more then ordinary kids.

But now, gazing out of the green-frosted windows of the _Flying Dutchman_'s cabin, I was beginning to think twice of this whole idea of adventure.

Maybe adventure is overrated after all.

"Maybe we should parley with them," Scarlet whispered behind me, her melodic voice trembling slightly. She sounded muffled, as if she was covering her lips with her hands. Beyond the algae-lined window panes, the blue sea churned white, waves parted and disturbed in the wake of the ship's path. The cerulean sky hung above, puffy grey clouds lining the horizon in a slight mist. The white hot sun was no where to be seen.

"Parley?" my brother growled behind me in reply, not bothering to lower his voice. He sounded rough and tired, as if he had just swallowed a bucket's worth of nails. The rhythmic patting of his foot sent light trembles through the floorboards. Further behind me, somewhere in front of Jared and Scarlett, the pirates hurried about on deck, the shut door dulling their voices and creating a soft murmur throughout the entire room. The rocking of the ship was nauseating.

"Pirate's honour," Scarlett replied hastily, as if afraid that someone might hear her in the small room, "Some code that they-all pirates abide by. I…I'm not sure…my father mentioned it once wh-…"

"Pirates have honour?!" I interrupted the red head, spinning on my heels away from the window to her. Jared and Scarlett sat together in front of me at a large circle table, the wood green and weak with decay. A dirty, old crystal chandelier hung above the green table, swaying along with the ship dangerously and casting dull reflections all over the room. The rest of the room was bare, cold and empty. Everything smelled fishy.

"Unbelievable, I know," Scarlett turned her jade eyes at me, cocking both eyebrows with a nod. Her lips were a stubborn red in her pale face. I inched forward, away from the window, and opened my mouth to speak when Jared interrupted me, voice hoarse as usual.

"What exactly can this…parley do?" he ran his long fingers through his sandy head, face screwed up in a frown. The bruise over his left eye was already beginning to pus. I leaned my weight against a slimy pillar, cocking my ankles to the side; I was becoming lazy again.

"I…" Scarlett parted her lips and straightened her back, eyes wide. She seemed at a lost for words. Finally, with eyes still trained on Jared's grimacing face, she threw her hands up into the air in exasperation.

"Oh, I don't know!" She cried out, slamming her gentle hands down on the wooden table, "I barely paid attention to my father when he talked about it! I never thought, in a million years that I would-…"

"Be kidnapped by pirates?" I finished for her, gazing at her calmly with a soft smirk, "Tell me about it."

Scarlett gaze fell away from me and silence enveloped us once again. The room was stuffy, the salty, cold air like giant arms around us. I reached out a finger and pulled the collar away from my damp neck, droplets of revolting sweat gliding down the nape of my neck. I wished somebody would open a window.

At the circular table, Jared was silent again, his baby blue eyes glaring hard at the object that laid on the table, in between him and Scarlett; the black metal chest sat silently on the green table top, glistening dully. The afternoon sun shone harshly through the dirty window, casting silver reflections from the metal box. The ornate design of the ship on the box's top glided with silver, almost moving in the bright sunlight.

I wondered if Jared and Scarlett could feel the chest vibrating against the wooden table, beating like a heart.

"We're so screwed," I decided, gazing down at my shoes. It wasn't a question or a theory; it was fact. Gazing around at our stuffy prison, there seemed to be no other evaluation. We were screwed.

Utterly and bitterly screwed.

"Tell me about it," Jared huffed out a sigh, his hand reaching up to massage the length of his neck. His blue eyes were still trained on the metal chest. Opposite him, Scarlett made no response. Her pale fingers played with the cloth of her faded dress, an action I had seen her done before in times of anxiety. Her long lashes flickered up to my brother. For another minute or so, silence engulfed us yet again. Finally, breaking the silence in a single, emotionless voice, Jared spoke again.

"If you hadn't taken this chest, like I told you to Joey, we wouldn't be in this mess. This is your entire god-damned fault."

That was it. I lunged forward, ready to strike my brother in a fit of fury when the door swung open, banging against the wood with a sound like gun shots. All heads in the small room snapped up, towards the fresh salty air that blew in.

Captain Turner strode into the room, tall and proud. Sweat crusted his bronzed forehead, gliding down his skin in clear droplets. His curly dark hair hung in wet, thick ringlets on his shoulders, bobbing gently as he cruised through the door and into the light. He was still wearing what he had worn the last I saw him; the bandana still sat on his head, his loose dark shirt plastered to his skin with sweat. A tired smile stretched across his handsome face, crinkling the dimples in his cheeks.

"Good afternoon," Captain Turner greeted with a nod, walking to the wooden table at which Jared and Scarlett sat at. His long, tanned fingers were playing with his belt hoops again. Behind him, the old man with dead eyes trudged into the room silently, a frown splashing across his pale face. In his hard, cold hands, a bowl piled with fruits rocked uneasily with the ship's swaying.

"Captain," Scarlett acknowledged, straightening her back to gaze calmly at the ship's commander. She took on the demeanor of a lady again, licking her lips to make them wet. Beside her, Jared straightened his back as well, eyes shooting darts at the Captain. His jaw clenched shut, a muscle jumping against his skin. I have no idea what was his problem. I turned my attention away from Jared and quite instinctively, reached forward and pulled the metal chest towards me. I had no idea why I did that but something, something just told me to hold on to the chest. I gripped the beating metal chest against my heart, sending vibrations through my body again. It was welcomed feeling, no doubt. Upon seeing this, Captain Turner smiled wearily at me, his brown eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. The old man with dead eyes said not.

"You must be hungry," Captain Turner smiled kindly at us, folding his long arms across his chest, "Here, have some fruits." He turned towards the old man and nodded with a small smile. With a sigh and what looked like a roll of the eyes, the old man kicked the door shut behind him and strode forward. His boots dragged like chains against the wooden floorboards. He slammed the red bowl of fruits down on the circular table and with a single motion, skidded the toppling bowl across the surface.

Jared managed to catch it before it went tumbling to the ground, setting it down in between him and Scarlett; where the chest had been. Without thinking-as usual-, I reached forward. Until now, it hadn't occurred to me how hungry I actually was. My tummy began to rumble agonizingly, bile climbing up into my throat; somehow, the sight of the food had reminded me that my last meal was but almost 24 hours ago.

Without caring for niceties, I reached out a free hand and grabbed a perky banana from among the fruits. Some apples tumbled away as I pulled back the banana, dropping to the floor. I used my teeth as a tool, peeling back the banana's skin before taking a grateful chomp into the fruit's sweet flesh. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet.

"Joanna!" Scarlett threw a reproachful look at me, frowning her olive eyes.

"What?!" I stared back at her defiantly; mouth full, "I'm hungry!" I was awarded with a low chuckle from the captain. Jared was silent, reaching down to pick up the scattered apples. I couldn't read his face-heck, who could?!

"You said that we needed to talk," I found myself saying as I swallowed the last of the banana, throat parched, "We've been waiting for two hours." I raised my eyes to the captain, cocking an eyebrow. Not that I had minded waiting though; it gave me time to take a little cat nap. The captain met my eyes briefly before casting it down, biting his lip. With a silent nod, he sat down on a stool at the table, directly opposite us. His hands tucked themselves in his pockets. Across the room from us, the old man with dead eyes trailed to the door, leaning against the decaying, slimy wood.

"Yes," Captain Turner looked up at us, eyes on me, "Forgive me for that. We had some…delays." At this, he cast a wayward gaze at the old man, who met his gaze with a solemn stare. The hairs on the nape of my neck prickled with cold sweat. What the heck did he mean by…delays?! Had he spent the last couple of hours preparing some horrid torture chamber for us?! Some sick machine that would rip us apart cut out-

_Stop it_, the tiny voice in my head screamed again, making me close my eyes in attempt to erase the image, _Stop scaring yourself_. After a quick few breaths, I regained my composure and opened my eyes back to the room, only to find that the conversation had gone on without me.

"…quite simple, Mr. Wolfe. I asked you, who are you?" Captain Turner frowned at my brother across the table, eyes stern. Jared's back was razor sharp, his blue eyes hardened to an icy stare. I mentally groaned; I really should stop day-dreaming, or I'm going to miss out everything.

"I've already told you our names," Jared growled in his dangerous voice, snarling his face. The muscles on his shoulders were tense, hard and high. His arms were on the table, crossed over one another in tight fists. Scarlett sat silently beside him, her face hidden from me. The old man was silent as well.

"That not's what I mean," the captain leaned forward slightly, crinkling his cute nose, "I know your name. I heard it the first time you said it. What I want to know is who you are, exactly. Where you are from. How do you know Sparrow." He seemed pretty serious about it, his elegant eyebrows furrowing down against his dark eyes. His jaw was clenched shut. I found myself crushing the banana skin in my hand, the chest beating against my heart.

"You can't force us," I frowned at the captain, gulping back saliva to wet my dry throat, "You can't force us to do anything!" Anger began to bubble within me; why did everyone try to tell what to do?! Captain Turner's brown eyes flew up to me, a smile breaking his hardened face.

"I don't know if you have noticed, Miss Wolfe," he smiled with humour, licking his dry lips, "You and your family are on my ship. In my cabin. Alone." His humour maddened me even more; my skin boiled as the captain casually tilted himself so that he leaned against the wooden table. The old man nodded silently as the handsome captain continued.

"We are miles away from any form of decent civilization, away from any ships," He smiled at me, eyes flashing, "You scream and no one will hear you." The last word sent ripples of cold dread over my skin. Fuck it, he was right!! We were prisoners! The banana skin turned to plush in my grip, sticky on my palm. Anger was seizing my heart like a cold fire. I fought to control the urge to throw the metal chest at the Captain's face.

"You have no choice," he spoke calmly, staring me down. I gulped back the urge to scream. The old man leaned leisurely at the door, arms folded across his chest. His dead eyes joined his captain's in staring at me, though his dark pools were void of any emotions. Jared's foot tapped impatiently on the floorboards.

"Look here-…" He began, raising his hands to state a point when I cut him off, words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Fine," I bit the words out savagely, glaring at the captain as fiercely as I could, "I'll tell you." Jared's blue eyes darted to me warningly, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. Beside him, sitting silently on the stool, Scarlett turned with interested eyes-she had of course not heard the entire story as well. I saw a look of alarm wash over my brother's face as he opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late. I was already talking.

"The three of us…" I spoke without thinking, staring back at the Captain with slight anger, "we're…siblings." Jared's ears were pricked up, staring at me with panic. The banana skin was rotting away in my palm. The Captain nodded with slight impatience, brown eyes burrowing into mine.

"Yes, yes," he said, "I heard that the first time. But where are you from? London?" Here, he paused, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His handsome face screwed up slightly, lips turning even more down.

"You don't speak like a Londoner, though," he muttered, more to himself then anything. At the door, the old man with dead eyes was watching us like a predator, as if on a single command from his Captain, he would lunge forward and rip our heads off. Gnarly, long nails poked out of the tips of his hands, like the claws of animals. Something told me that he wouldn't hesitate to kill us on the spot.

"That's because we're not," I retorted firmly, insides churning under Jared's glare. Scarlett's breathing had become more audible, crashing down on my eardrums like waves and waves of ocean. The chest was beating calmly against my racing heart.

"We're from…" I began but couldn't continue. What the heck was I supposed to say?! For a minute, everything went still as I raked my brain for any kind of idea-we were brought up by cannibals, or lived alone in the mountains, or hid away-

"We're from the future!" I slammed the chest down onto the rickety table with exasperation, suddenly just so fed-up with everything, "Alright! The future!"

"JOEY!" Jared yelled as if I had just committed murder, glaring his blue eyes at me from his seat. The table shook under my new weight, rocking uncontrollably along with the swagger of the ship. Opposite from me, Captain Turner's eyes went big, his dark brown eyebrows drawing up to his hairline. He straightened in his seat, looking at me with utter disbelief. Even the old man with dead eyes expressed his surprise, straightening against the wooden door and widening his eyes, just a little. Scarlett looked at me with some sort of disgust.

"Not again, Joanna!" she said, folding her petite arms over the milky cloth. She had on that stern look, that irksome look adults often gave me when they thought I was being a nonsense. My anger flared even more as Jared began to get to his feet.

"Why is it whenever I tell the truth, no one fucking believes me?!" I screamed out in frustration, releasing the box on the table and pushing Jared back down on his stool, "WE'RE FROM THE FUTURE!" Jared stumbled back down on his unsteady, wooden stool, eyes flared in open anger. His eyes had never been this blue. Scarlett's opened her red mouth to rebut me once again when Captain Turner spoke, somehow shushing all into obedient silence.

"Alright, alright," he raised his brown hands up at me, trying to calm me down, "Why don't you start from the beginning? Where everything began?" He had recovered from his mild shock and returned back to his cool demeanor, slouching slightly once again. The old man with dead eyes was still silent, now staring at me with intense interest. Captain Turner's eyes were beautiful pools of dark in the light.

"Alright," I breathed in my fury and irritation, steadying my gaze at the man before me, "Alright." And just as I had told Sparrow, I told our story. Everything was mentioned-the painting in the attic, the fight at Port Royal, Seadog, meeting Scarlett….Every single important detail tumbled out of my mouth, narrating a story that even now sounded fabulous to my ears. I grabbed the hilt of my jeweled sword as I spoke, holding the Captain's gaze as I breathed. I didn't care to look at Jared.

"…and the rest, you know," I finished, gulping in a deep breath as the last word lingered in the air. The sun rays that shone through the algae-lined window were gentler now, the sun making its slow descent across the mid afternoon sky. The sea still rocked beneath, waves of white foam crashing noisily onto the ship's wooden sides. Up above, the pirates scurried with their work, the stomping of boots and the yelling of hoarse voices filling up the void that had only a moment ago been filled by my own voice. The room was still stuffy as hell.

"You _were _telling the truth," Scarlett whispered, her pale face taking on an even paler shade. It was as if the blood had been drained from her face, leaving behind sunken cheeks and hollow eyes. Her large green eyes stared up at me, guilt swimming in them. I couldn't help but take some small satisfaction in the girl's guilt towards me; it's always nice to have someone wish for your forgiveness. Beside her, Jared was giving me that look, the its-all-your-fault-if-we-end-up-dead-in-the-next-five-minutes look. His fingers drummed uneasily on the table top, as it had the entire time I had been telling our tale. The metal chest glinted in between them on the table.

"Yeah," I looked down at Scarlett with a helpless smirk on my face, "just like I always do. But does anyone believe me? Nooooo…." Opposite from me, the captain had turned away from me to his hands, studying the lines of his palms as his brain worked overtime. His nose crinkled as he thought, making his handsome face even more gorgeous. At the door, the old man's dead eyes were now swarmed with suspicion.

"So, she ain't yer sister?" the old man croak, narrowing his eyes as he shuffled across the room to the table. He nodded his head at Scarlett, who had turned to look at the man upon hearing his voice. Once again, her face paled.

"Yeah," I nodded, biting my lip. It had taken all my sense to remind me, as I told my tale, not to include that Scarlett was in fact Lady Errol, daughter of Lord Errol. I don't know why I had done it though. It was as if instinct had yelled into my ear; something about the way Jared had lied about Scarlett's true origins from the beginning, shielding her name with ours, told me to follow suit. Sometimes, my brother had reasons for doing the things he did.

"Then, who de hell is she?" the old man croaked, narrowing his dark eyes. His wrinkles bordering his features crinkled up even more, eyes flashing. Beside him, silent on the stool, Captain Turner still studied his hands, oblivious to our exchange. I met the old man's deadly glare without wavering.

"I told you," I spoke as calmly as I could, narrowing my eyes as well, "She was a maid on a ship the pirate Seadog had attacked. We rescued her out of chance." My entire back was drenched in sweat, giant teardrops of salty water trailing down my skin in a sickening roll. The banana skin was sticky in my clenched hand; without a thought, I threw it to my side, letting the squishy yellow skin fall to the ground with a _splat_. Our host didn't seem to notice though-he was much to busy with his hands.

"You're lying!" the old man gritted his teeth, snarling at us like a wolf. His dead eyes were now just black slits in his face, like the side view of a black, black coin. He gripped the edge of the circular table with a gnarled hand, glaring at me with his dead eyes from across the room. His lips were pulled back in a scowl, crinkling up his pasty skin even more. Once again, he reminded me of an animal, on the verge of attack. Scarlett had turned an even paler shade, large jade eyes darting nervously around. Jared's jaw hung open.

"Are you accusing me of lying?!" I found myself shouting, even though I was more afraid then angry, really. Once again, my mind conjured up revolting images of torture chambers beneath the ship's cabins, instruments of pain that would send us screaming out in agony. What if they concluded we were lying?! I had read horrible things about pirates, back at home-one pirate had at one time cut of the ears of his prisoners and fed it to them.

I DID NOT WANT TO EAT MY EARS!!

"Of course yer lying!" The old man shouted back, rage consuming him like a dark fire, "The lass's wearing a dress fit for queens! No maid-…"

"Father, that's enough," Captain Turner's velvety voice cut off the old man's voice, like the smooth gliding of a wave after the monsoon, "There is no need to provoke them." The handsome captain sat up in his chair, lifting his brown eyes from his hands towards us. Not a smile doused his face; his lips were set in a serious straight line.

"Yeah, father," I smirked triumphantly now at the old man, who was scowling down at his captain, "that's enough." The old man's eyes shot up to me again and I couldn't help but flinch back at his glare; he had a scowl that could scar millions. Jared sat up straight in his chair, throwing a curious look at the captain.

"He's your father?!" He asked with a nod at the old man with dead eyes, incredulity shrouding his face. Scarlett too had caught on to the trail, looking with eyebrows raised. It took me a moment to catch up with everyone.

"Wow! What?" I raised an eyebrow to my hairline, looking from the captain and the old man. They looked _nothing_ alike. While the captain was pretty much the most beautiful man I had ever seen, the old man reminded me of a hobo that used to hang around my town center back home. I found myself gawking at this newly enlightened fact.

WHAT THE HECK?!

"Yes," Captain Turner looked calmly at us, with a shadow of a smile crossing his face, "He is my father." He briefly looked up at the old man with dead eyes, but the latter didn't return the glance; his black, soulless eyes continued its campaign against me, glaring me down with all its might. I seriously wanted to whack the living daylight out of him. Jared interrupted our death glare match with the clear of his throat.

"Alright then," he glared at me from the corner of his eye before turning back his attention to the captain, "Alright." He didn't seem to have anything to say, even though he opened his mouth to speak. He took a breath, then shut his mouth again, hesitant. I wondered what was on his mind. Beside him, Scarlett was silent, staring quietly as things unfolded before her. A smooth, porcelain hand shouldered the black metal chest on the table.

The captain got up and without a word, trailed to the green-tinted window. From the world outside, the wind howled out its sea breath, whistling through the gaps in the window's fringes. The sun rays were softer now, gliding across the slimy floorboards and tinting the wood to gold. Seagulls flew outside, the white-winged birds coasting over the whipping waves in search of fish. The sky was still blue. The captain leaned against the window as his father and I carried on our glare match. I figured a cock to the head, with the slight narrowing of the eye would give the impression of a demented person. I tried this out against the old man, clenching my fist-

"Sound's like Calypso mischief to me," the captain's voice finally interrupted our death glare match, slightly muffled. Despite everything, I let go of the old man's gaze and turned on my heels to face the captain. He was gazing out the window like some sorrowful Shakespearean poet, his head resting on an arm that forked above his head against the glass. His dark curls caught the afternoon light, turning a brilliant white-gold in its shine. The chandelier above us creaked nosily.

"I'm sorry?" Jared voice out, raising a bushy eyebrow at the older man. His blue eyes darted momentarily to me before returning back to the captain.

"Calypso," the captain turned his handsome face around then, a small smile playing across his bronzed face, "The Goddess of the Sea. My patron." He said the last two words with a grim smile, a wave of emotions washing across his gentle eyes. Those eyes caught mine, and for a moment everything went still.

I couldn't breathe.

"Goddess-of-the-sea?!" my brother repeated slowly, drawing up an eyebrow with a twitch to his lips. He scoffed out in amusement and gazed at me, lips dying to smile. His elbows rested on the table, his back leaning against the edge. Beside him, Scarlett too looked incredulous, though not as amused. It then hit me.

"I'm sorry…what?" I folded my arms and cocked an eyebrow at the captain, widening my eyes just a little.

"You heard right," the captain replied, lips set in a small smile.

For a second or so, all was silent. I turned to look at Scarlett for any answers but the petite girl was just as curious, staring at the Captain quietly. No one spoke; the damp air pressed down on us, pushing against my chest. The palm was still sticky. After what seemed like forever, the Captain finally spoke, his voice smooth and calm in the thick air.

"Have you ever heard of the legend of the Flying Dutchman in your time?" he addressed the question to me, meeting my eyes with a gentle stare. His fingers were playing with his belt hoops again, the index finger of his right hand gently stroking the hilt of his rapier. Half his face was blanketed in the sun's white hot glare.

"No," I shook my head at him, biting my lip involuntarily, "Only in SpongeBob."

"I'm sorry?"

"No, no," I shook my head at him again, curls bobbing up and down along side my sweaty face, "Ignore me. Please just go on." Beside me, Jared gave me a look that for once, I couldn't understand. A smile still twitched his lips. Scarlett remained silent. The Captain's smile widened at me, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. Something about him washed a sense of calm over me, as if his very smile had the power to soothe my nerves. It took me a while to realize I wasn't breathing anymore.

"The legend of the Flying Dutchman is an old one," the Captain droned, turning back to gaze out the green-tinted window, "A legend that has passed the test of time. Few before me have taken this mantel, as the captain of this ship. Few want it." He turned back to us, his eyes meeting mine again. The rapier danced at his side, glinting silver all over the room. A smile, a handsome smile played across his face as he saw our faces.

"I see you are confused," he grinned at us, dimples peeking at each cheek.

"You got that right," Jared raised an eyebrow, no longer smiling. He crossed his arms and watched the Captain, confusion splayed across his face. Beside him, Scarlett betrayed no emotion, staring at our host with modest respect. It was almost as if the old man was no longer in the room.

"I see," the Captain's eyes glinted and then, without warning, he reached out a long arm in my direction, "Come here please, Miss Wolfe." I froze in my place, gazing at the outstretched hand in confusion. Why on earth-

Before I knew it, my feet were dragging me towards the Captain, sliding against the rocking wood. My hand met his before I could stop it, gently landing on his open palm. The Captain's hand was warm as the sun, his fingers long and nimble. His palm was rough as hay, tired and wrinkled from labour. Clean fingernails-a true surprise for a pirate-scratched the back of my hand as his fingers closed over my hand, in a tight, warm ball. Heat radiated from his in waves.

Without a word, the Captain drew me near, pulling me with my hand. I went to him helplessly, my heart all geared up to jump out of my mouth. Paralysis shocked my entire body, forcing me stupid and numb in his hand. A strange emotion bloomed like a flower in my chest, exploding in all different shades. I couldn't breathe.

The Captain took my hand and placed it over his chest, where his heart would be. My palm unfolded against the fabric of his shirt, the soft cloth wet beneath my palm. His hand held the back of my hand to his heart, his grip gentle against my skin. Silently, my thumb skidded away from the fabric and onto the skim of skin revealed at his open collar. His bronzed skin was wet with sweat, smooth and warm with life. His chest did not heave under my palm, still and silent in the waking quiet of the room. My heart was practically dancing in my chest.

"Listen," he whispered softly, gazing down at me with his dark eyes. I couldn't bring myself to look up at him, not this time. Something about this man, something unexplainable, froze me in place, paralyzing my entire body to ice. My breath locked itself in my chest, squeezing my lungs painfully, tightly. I couldn't feel my legs.

But listen I did. My ears pricked up slowly, listening out for anything. The soft whispers of the wind, the crashing of waves, the annoyed-induced sighing from Jared-all of this I could hear. Sounds clear to me as a whistle. But it was the sounds from the Captain that captured my attention mostly. The way his hair rustled against his shoulders, the ominous clearing of his throat, the gentle sighing of his breath, the slow beat of his heart-

I withdrew my hand with a gasp, knocking away the Captain's grip. My legs found themselves again as they staggered back, my eyes flying up the Captain's. It was _impossible_. How could anyone, any living person survive without the last sound? How on earth-

"What is it?" Jared got on his feet, gazing at me with worry. He knocked his stool back as he rose, the wooden chair falling to the ground nosily. Beside him, Scarlett watched with curious eyes, red lips parting slightly in wonder. The old man watched sternly from his perch at the other end of the room. I felt my breath return to me, wheezing out in raspy gasps.

"He's got no _heartbeat_," I breathed out, looking up the Captain in disbelief. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, the blood pulsing to my brain. This didn't make sense. _None_ of this made sense! From the table, I heard Scarlett gasp, her breath like the squeak of a mouse in the room. The chandelier shook to the side as the ship swayed, the tiny, musty reflections it casted all over the room trembling here and there. It reminded me of little silver fishes, darting just beneath the surface of the water.

"What?!" Jared raised both eyebrows at the Captain, mouth hanging open. Scarlett cleared her throat and spoke in a whisper, voice raspy and cold.

"So, the legend is true. You are _dead_."

"For a matter of speaking, yes," The Captain tore his gaze from me to smile calmly at the small Lady, "I am dead. Have been for about a year now." With a slight smile in my direction, he strode back across the room. Jared continued his incredulous stare at the Captain as the older man paced towards the circular table, towards the space in between Jared and Scarlett where I had resided only moments ago. Jared kept to his feet, still staring at the man. Scarlett stared at the host as well, silent again. The Captain reached forward upon arriving at the table and took the metal chest in his hands, the bulky chest gleaming silver in the wake of the sunlight. It glinted in his hands, blinding me as I remained immobile. Disbelief still shrouded my senses.

Without a word, he turned on his heels and tossed the metal chest in my direction. It took all my pinching for me to wake up and grab the chest as it sailed down towards me, my hands catching it just in time. Upon contact, my skin burned, the metal white hot with heat. With a soft yelp, I made to throw it into the air again but somehow, my attention drifted away; the Captain was speaking again, eyes trained on me.

"Listen."

The thumping of drums, the stamping of feet, the beating of a heart-

"Your heart," I finally understood, gazing down at the vibrating chest with wonder.

"Yes," the Captain answered calmly, staring at me from the table with a small smile. I felt all eyes in the room fall onto me, onto the chest in my hands. Beneath the metal top, buried in this black chamber thumped the heart of Captain William Turner, steady and never ending. A heart, well and beating with life despite all odds. The heart of the man before me.

Now, nothing can surprise me.

"But-but…," Jared shook his head in disbelief, resting his butt down on the circular table. He watched the chest with wide eyes, jaw dropping to his chest. Scarlett looked astounded as well, lips parted in astonishment. She too watched the chest, as if the black box in my hands would suddenly come to life. It felt that way, though. Captain Turner began to speak again, cutting through the thick silence like a sharp knife.

"It is the price I pay for immortality," the Captain spoke calmly, eyes drawing up from the chest to meet my eyes, "The surrender of one's heart." He slowly drew his eyes away from me and with a silent nod, walked quietly towards the window. He tucked his hands behind his back, long nimble fingers entwining with one another.

"It is the captain of the Flying Dutchman's scared duty to harbor."

"Harbour what?" Jared asked, staring at the Captain's retreating back. His voice quavered a little, blue eyes momentarily shifting to me before returning back to the Captain.

"Souls," the captain simply answered, striding slowly towards the window, "Lives that had been ended at sea. It is the duty given to me by the Goddess, Calypso. A duty I cannot abandon for all eternity, less face a punishment that I have seen first hand. And trust me, I do not wish to even try it." He stopped at the window, gazing out it again with silent eyes. Once again, the sun whitewashed his face, turning his brown eyes to gold. A heavenly, angelic gold.

"This Calypso…," I mumbled, my arms drawing the beating hot chest to my heart unconsciously, "She is a goddess?"

"Yes," the captains smiled at the window, a soft sad smile, " I have met her. She is a force to be reckoned with." For a second, silence engulfed us again. Then, Jared spoke, wide blue eyes trained on the Captain's back.

"How did you become like this?" his voice was almost a whisper, like the waves that rushed against the sides of the ship. The metal chest burned against my skin but I couldn't let go; something told me not to let go. The muscles on the Captain's shoulders tensed a little, rising his dark curls up. He continued his gaze out beyond the horizon, staring at the still blue sky.

"To become the Captain of the Flying Dutchman," he spoke softly, gazing out the window calmly, "One must sacrifice their own heart. One must stab the heart of the previous Captain and place his own heart in the Dead Men's Chest…the chest you are holding in your hands, Miss Wolfe." As he spoke, I gazed down at the metal chest, gleaming silver in the sunlight. Once again, my breath was caught within me, only this time in my throat. My fingers clenched tightly around the chest, pulling it even closer to me. The heat radiated through my thin blouse.

"It is how I met that imbecile Jack," the captain spoke again, turning his face slightly away from the window with a mild look of disgust blooming across his face, "In fact; I can safely say that my predicament is his entire fault."

"Ugh," I found my voice, screwing up my face to show my sympathy, "That must suck." The captain turned to look at me, a small smile grazing his face. His brown eyes washed over me again, studying me as if I was a book. I hugged the piping hot chest even more tightly, heart racing in my chest.

"Immortality has its price," the Captain smile grimly at me, eyes twinkling in the afternoon light.

"Yeah," I cocked an eyebrow, nodding my head at the older man, "IT-SUCKS."

"JOEY!" my brother yelled again, somewhere from the back. This time, though, I didn't bother to turn.

The Captain turned on his heels, towards the window again. The sun shrouded his face with gold, blanketing all sense of emotion as his fingers gripped his belt hoops tightly; so tightly that his knuckles became bone white. His shoulder blades tensed, the muscle rising up to his neck. Silence engulfed the room yet again as the Captain became but a statue against the window, against the bright afternoon light. The chest vibrated low beats in my arms, the heart within beating slowly. Finally, the man at the window breathed, his voice so low that I had to prick up my ears just to make out what he said.

"You have no idea."

Before I could open my mouth to reply, the Captain had regained his composure, turning back to us. His face had recaptured back its cool aloofness, his features hardening back to a determined stare. His fingers abandoned his belt hoops abruptly, a falling hand brushing against his rapier, making it jingle and dance with silvery light. His shoulders squared back again, his dark brown eyes regaining their focus.

The transformation was so startling, I almost gagged.

"But enough about me," the Captain smiled without warmth at us, casually bringing up his bronzed hands to his hips. He looked over my shoulder at the old man with dead eyes, nodding his head slightly.

"Father, please bring our guests to their room and ensure they be treated with the upmost respect. If the room isn't ready, send Lestrade out to the crow's nest. If he isn't there, find him," he cocked his head at us as he spoke, indicating us as the guests. At the round table, Jared and Scarlett were silent.

Yet again.

"Yes, Captain," the old man nodded his head at his son and strode forward round the table, in between the slimy pillars that held up the ceiling. His feet were like anchors against sand, dragging horribly. He stopped behind me, just beside Scarlett.

"Anything else, Captain?" he regarded his son with a blank stare, hands poised in ready. In that situation, still confused about everything, I couldn't help but feel a little odd watching a grown man address his son so formally, let alone as a superior. My dad would have never have done that, not even to his golden boy Johnny. At the window, the Captain shook his head.

"No, father," he smiled grimly, "That would be all." Then, he turned away from his daddieo towards us, all three of us still staring blankly at him. He raised his chin as he spoke, his voice loud and clear as the immortal captain of the Flying Dutchman would speak.

"From this moment, you are esteemed guests on my ship," the Captain spoke with a serious smile, if that was possible, "Anything you need shall be catered to by my crew. Just say the word." The ship rocked again, making the dirty chandelier above swing dangerously to the side.

"Calypso?" I found myself asking in a soft voice as the others began to rise to their feet, joining the old man by the pillar. The chest still thudded against my body, the Captain's heart rocking a slow, steady beat. That beat quickened, however, when the Captain met my gaze again, dark brown meeting hazel. The chest burned against my skin as he held my gaze for a moment, his heart beating violently within. My heart raced along with his, threatening to spill out of my mouth like a geyser. It was a while before he spoke again, his beautiful eyes still holding mine.

"Don't worry, Miss Wolfe," he nodded his head slightly, the silence behind me shrouding around us like a flame, "I will contact Calypso personally and quire her involvement in…in your predicament. Trust me, I will get you home." His last words stung my insides like a burn, for reasons I couldn't explain. For the first time in my life, staring into the Captain's eyes yet again, I felt absolutely and ultimately naked.

As if the man, the man who I had only just met, could read the very depths of my soul.

With a silent nod of thanks, I placed the chest back down on the circular table and followed Jared and Scarlett out the door, the old man leading the way. Piling up the steps out of the stuffy room, I heard a sound from behind me. A sound that even until today drives a knife through my heart in remembrance. It pierced my very soul, a sharp stab in the void of emotions that bloomed within me. It was an agonizing, disturbing sound that sent millions and millions of electric bolts through my body, my heart squeezing into itself in pity and sorrow. My stomach cringed in tears.

It was the sound of a sob.

**That's it, folks! Sorry to disappoint you all…for I felt that this chapter was ****definitely**** not my best. I kind of suck at a whole string of dialogue…like a conversation. I really apologize for making this one boring and promise to make things better the next chapter! **

**XOXO**


	15. Swordplay

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and enjoy!!**

**Chapter 14**

**Sword play**

The girl that stood in the mirror, staring back at me with large brown eyes, was unfamiliar. Foreign.

Even alien.

Her skin was as copper, a dark bronze tanned by the harsh sea sun. Her long dark blonde hair was lighter then before, glowing a brighter gold in the morning light. They reached down past her shoulders, spilling over her bosoms like sparkling streams. Her eyes seemed different too, the specks of bronze in her hazel eyes becoming white gold in the sunlight. Her arms were longer then remembered lean, slender arms that glistened with muscles that were never there. Her outfit, too, seemed unfamiliar. Tight-fitting pants drew up muscled calves to meet a rugged, skirted overall, white puffy sleeves rolled up to the mid-arm. A thick, brown belt circled her hip tightly, dangling her rubied sword by her side whilst emphasing her figure. And a figure she had. Her breast had never been this perfect, nor her waist ever smaller. It was the figure of my dreams, a figure I never had.

Yet, this girl, this girl in the mirror, was someone I knew all too well.

"Can't recognize yourself, can you?" Jared's voice brought me out of my reverie, his voice dancing with amusement. With a _click_, I snapped my head away from the full-length mirror. My brother stood in the open doorway, standing under the rotting arch with a hand still on the doorknob. A dark boot shifted in between the door and the wall, half his body already making its way into the large cabin. A small knowing smile twitched his lips.

"Don't you know how to knock?" I frowned at him, consciously wrapping my arms across my mid-section. I don't know why, but the very idea that Jared had been spying on my self-admiration time made me want to crawl into some shell and scream. My sword jingled slightly at the movement.

"Why should I?" Jared screwed up his face slightly, abandoning his smile for a moment as he sauntered his full body into the cabin, "It's my room too."

"Yeah," I cringed my nose at him, watching helplessly as the wooden door slammed shut behind him, echoing a loud _bang_ throughout the large space, "But I'm a girl. I need privacy."

"Say's who?"

"The world."

"Well, just like you always say, dear sister," Jared's smile returned, a lazy grin that twinkled his blue eyes, "I don't give a fuck." With that, he threw himself onto his bed, boots still on. His copper hair flapped back as his head hit the worn-out pillows, the pale cloth a great contrast to his bronzed skin. His boots streaked black dirt over the clean sheets, his stupid smile still plastered on his face for no reason. Once again, I felt the urge to punch him.

With a sigh, I turned away from my brother and strolled towards the open window, towards the bar of faint light that stretched across the entire length of the room. Outside, the world was a vision of gray. Dark clouds streaked across the colourless morning sky, the remnants of last night's storm trailing away over the horizon. The air still smelled of rain, the sea air that rushed pass my face mingling with the fresh, damp breath of monsoon. The sea was a silvery blue, a cold blanket of blue steel whipped here and there by gentle, white waves. A patch of cold sunlight streamed through the bleak sky over head, turning the water below it into a calm swoon of twinkling gold. Seagulls flew near the surface of the quiet sea, dipping in and out of the silent waves in hope of breakfast. Their calls broke the silence of the world, screeching up to me in high, annoying voices.

I yearned for a blanket.

Once again, my brother's voice broke me out of my daydream.

"You look good," he said in a cool voice, voice hoarse as usual. I turned back to him to see him still slouching down on the bed, head back. His blue eyes studied me from his post, his long eyelashes brushing against his high cheekbones. His left eye was still blue-black, the pus having already been cleared away last night. His arms were folded across his stomach, his large chest half blocking his view of me. The stupid smile was still on his face, for reasons I didn't bother to find out. At his compliment, I cocked an eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"I said," Jared rolled his eyes, just as I had, his smile wavering only by a little, "you look good. Better then in that." With the last words, he nodded his head towards the other side of the room, his lazy head sliding across his pale pillows. I couldn't help but follow his gaze. Sitting at the other end of the room, a complete identical to Jared's bed, was my own bed. It leaned against the room's left wall, a single-sized, messy bed with clean, white sheets draped tightly over it. The pale blue blanket was still in a tumble, tossed over the side of the bad in carelessness. Unlike Jared's bed, which had the full-length mirror plastered to its end, my bed was bare of decorative; a single, face mirror hung above my bed, on the wall. It glinted faintly in the grey light.

Squared away, on the face of my bed sheets, were my old clothes. The old baggy pants and stained white shirt that we had stolen from Port Royal were laid out neatly, unlike the condition of the rest of the bed. It struck out against the white sheets, the yellowish shirt stripped at the stomach with blood stains dotting its edges. The pants were stained too, mud and sand streaking the edges of its cuffs. Lying there, alone on the bed, the old clothes looked even more miserable.

"Yeah," I nodded my head, turning away from my bed to gaze down at my new outfit, "They are better." With a shadow of a smile, I looked up at Jared.

"Thank God, Captain Turner had female members of his crew before."

Truth be told, the whole incident with the outfit was weird. After being escorted to our guest rooms last night, having finished a satiable dinner of peppered fish by ourselves in the Captain's dining hall, a man had knocked on our door. He was one of the Captain's men, a shabby-looking character with clear blue-grey eyes. It was he who had handed the new outfit to me, rather shyly though as if I was the first girl he had ever seen. Quite adorable, if you ask me. Of course, I had to ask him where he had gotten it from. He had shuffled at his feet, casting his pretty eyes down to the hard wood. He murmured words beneath his breath, words I couldn't even hear. As he had dashed off, still murmuring, I had been able to ascertain one word from him, a word I heard him mumble a little more loudly as he ran. A name.

Elizabeth.

I had to ask the Captain about this.

"You don't look bad yourself," I found a need to return the compliment as I gazed over at my brother. I wasn't lying. He wore an outfit much similar to mine; only his was tailored for men, fitting his squarish figure perfectly. His white, long sleeves were in place, rolling over his large biceps and ending at his wrists. His skirted overall was much like mine, though longer, sliding against the kneecaps. It was a darker brown too, the thick belt at his hips empty of any weapons. The pants that covered his legs were not as fitting as mine either, hanging loosely onto his giant calves. Black, dirty boots ended the ensemble; the same boots that we had stolen from Port Royal still kept on his feet.

"Yeah?" Jared looked down at himself with narrowed eyes, trying his best to see past his huge chest, "I suppose. Its better then those rags we got from Port Royal."

"Where did you get them?"

"Captain Turner lent them to me. He gave something like what you're wearing to Scarlett too."

At this, I raised an eyebrow at my brother, the gentle wind whipping my copper hair across my face. I didn't remember ever meeting Captain Turner again after yesterday's interrogation, at the small, stuffy cabin. In fact, the sad sound I had heard from him, the soft sob, had been the last thing I had heard and seen of the man. The rest of the evening had been spent alone with Jared and Scarlett, taking dinner and readying for bed. I hadn't even heard a whisper of him.

"When?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at my brother, slowly reaching up and unrolling my sleeves; the sea breeze was becoming bitingly cold. Jared half-raised his head from the bed to screw his face up at me, the dark blemish over his left eye swollen to a pulp. I had forgotten it was even there. His next words were accusing, even annoying.

"When you were asleep," he said, gazing at me with those blue eyes, "Only just now. Scarlett and I went exploring the ship together; we just happened to bump into the Captain."

"Scarlett?"

"Yes," Jared narrowed his eyes in irritation, slowly sitting up in his bed, "Scarlett. You know, the girl we saved from Seadog? Red-head, small, kind of hot?"

"I know who she is," I bit back at Jared, heaving a sigh of impatience. Annoyance was creeping back into my body, slithering under my skin. The wind whispered its sorrowful, lonely lament. Beneath my feet, the ship barely rocked, still on the silent waves.

"Good," Jared grinned sarcastically, all previous emotions of happiness he had displayed dissipating like the wind, "Just checking." I stuck my tongue out in reply. A black-beaked seagull swopped down from the heavens to rest on the window's ledge, about a meter away from me. Its call was like the siren of an ambulance, loud but persistent. I banged my knuckles against the wood to try to scare it off.

"Anyway," Jared was talking again, boots falling back to the floor with a loud _thud_, "What are we going to do about Scarlett?"

"Slit her throat."

"Joey," Jared's voice was ridding impatience, a heavy sigh slipping into his thick voice, "I'm serious."

"You're always serious," I retorted, glaring away at the stubborn bird, its loud caws piercing my eardrums, "Tell me one time-…"

"Joe…."

"Alright!" I abandoned my knocking, pivoting on my heels to glare back at my brother, "Alright." Without another thought of the noisy bird, I jumped up onto the window ledge, my entire back exposed to the cold morning. I knew-in that position-that with just a knock of my feet, I could go tumbling down into the silent waves, the cold, icy water trapping me in its blue cage forever. A stray thought of my pale body floating in the endless sea, bobbing up and down on the white waves, sent a sharp chill down my spine.

Why do I bother myself with such imaginations?!

"Joey," my brother spoke, yet again, cutting short my train of thoughts, "Aren't you listening?" He was sitting up fully now, his face wearing a sour expression. It's funny how my brother could change moods in a blink of an eye-maybe he was bi-polared. His dark blonde hair was a riveting mess, sticking out here and there in the weirdest fashion. The faint sunlight caught his blue eyes, making them look as dreamy and sleepy as the sea beyond.

"Nope."

"I said," Jared bit the words in irritation, scrunching his brow, "How are we going to get Scarlett home?"

"Why does it matter to us?" I asked, swinging my legs and knocking them against the hard wood, "She's not important." Jared's eyes narrowed, until they were nothing more then blue slits in his face. His lips drew down even more.

"She is to me," he said simply, "We need to get her home." He ran a meaty hand through his messy hair, his fingers entwining with his copper hair like racks through hay. For some reason, his cheekbones were turning red.

"Well," I folded my arms on my lap, enjoying the swing of my legs, "I got an idea."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"We throw her overboard and hope someone finds her."

Jared looked at me as if I was mentally deranged, a single, bushy eyebrow rising to his hairline. His blue eyes grew wide, his pupils diluting to small peepholes. His mouth parted slightly. Finally, after a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Have you lost your brain, Joey?"

"I think it's a good idea," I rebutted, raising my crossed arms up to my mid-section, "There's a 50 percent chance of survival." Jared rose to his feet, his hands drawing up to rub his temples in agony

"Seriously, Joe. Sometimes I think you have _no _brain."

"What?!"

"She's a _Lady_," Jared bit down on the last word, staring at me with incredulity from across the room, "A freaking Lady of England! We can't just drop her into the water like cattle!"

"You would totally drop me!"

"That's not the point!"

"Wait," I raised a hand, scrunching my eyebrows together as I remembered, "That reminds me."

"What?" Jared groaned, throwing his face into his large hands in defeat. He was probably contemplating on my inability to hold a subject for more then 5 minutes. The wind shook again, icy breath gliding over my skin.

"Why did you protect her?" I asked my brother, bringing my hand back down to my lap, "Why did you name Scarlett our sister?" It was a question I had been dying to ask Jared from the very moment it happened. Yet, somehow, the thought had slipped out of my mind, as if it were never there. Only now was it coming back to me, like mist sweeping over a river. Jared lifted his face from his cupped hands and stared at me from across the room, exasperation slowly leaking out of his face. His cheekbones were no longer red.

"I had to, Joe," his voice returned back to its calm manner, hands dropping back to his side, "If the pirates found out she was Lady….I don't know, maybe they would hold her for ransom or something." As he said this, he spun towards the door, as if in fear of being overheard. He did not have to fear, of course. The door to our room was wedged shut, locking us from the world.

"I don't know, Jared," I screwed up my face as another icy wind bristled its way through the room, chilling my bones, "They don't seem like the other pirates. They seem…different." Jared's cracked lips widened at this, his smile returning to his face. You know how they say that when you smile you look your best? This was absolutely true for Jared. Life returned to his weary eyes, dimples flashing in his glazed cheeks. It was almost as if light illuminated from him, a golden, spherical light.

"You mean Captain Turner," Jared's smile caught on a mischievous tint, eyes flashing with re-lighted humour.

"What you talking about?" I scrunched up my face again.

"Oh, come one!" Jared smile widened, folding his large arms across his wide chest, "I saw how you two looked at each other yesterday. Couldn't keep your leeching eyes off him. And vice-versa, if I may add."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said hotly in reply, jumping off the window ledge with a heavy _bang_. The noisy seagull remained where it was, perched atop the window ledge, crowing at the top of its lungs. Somehow, now, it offered some comfort in this prickly situation. The air had gone still again, the gentle breeze slowly receding into nothingness. Yet, the world was still cold, the morning dampness creeping beneath my skin and into my bones. Once again, I yearned for my blanket.

"You can't fool me, lil sis," he smiled coolly, eyes twinkling with cold amusement, "You think he's hot."

"No, I don't!" I folded my arms across my chest, shaking my head in fierce denial. A strong flush began to creep up my cheeks, piking my skin to a hot red. Without at thought, I reached up and rubbed an open palm against it, in hope that it would somehow stop the blushing. My heart hammered in quick jumps against my ribcage, panic overriding the system. Jared stared back at me triumphantly, as if this was a game and he had just won.

Over my dead body.

"Besides," I felt a small smile tugged at my lips in turn, my heart slowing down after a while, "You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You think Scarlett is hot!" I shouted in accusation, pointing a single finger at his bulking figure. Jared's eyes widened in shock, his hands going frigid at his side. He gulped back a swallow of saliva.

"What?!"

"Don't deny it, cowboy!"

"I don't find her hot!" Jared's voice rose to shout as well, eyes wide and blue. His face was turning red now, his neck already a stroke of a fiery blush. Jared was the kind of guy who blushed at the neck, the rims of his collar striking against his reddened skin. His ears were slowly becoming scarlet as well.

"You just said it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Silence engulfed us as my breath cut short, our eyes meeting across the room. Jared was breathing like a furious animal, sucking in the damp air with his mouth-if I was lucky, I might just see some steam spouting out of his ears and nose like a volcanic eruption. His fists were clenched at his side, his blue eyes hard and cold as they glared at me. I returned his glare, gritting my teeth as I focused my eyes on staring him down. The silence pressed down on us like an anchor, dragging us below. The seagull was no longer cawing. Finally, after a moment's breath, Jared spoke, his voice hoarse as usual.

"Never speak of this again?"

"Agreed."

* * *

"Joey!"

The sharp sword crashed against the wood, missing my head by an inch. Splinters rained down on me like pointy snowflakes, the crack of the wood like the sound of breaking skulls. In front of me, my adversary moved silently, a shadow against the pale morning sky. Without a word, he yanked the blade free; but I was already moving, skidding down to my knees and diving through my opponent's legs. The metal nails in the deck's wooden floor raked through my pants as I skidded across it, shots of jarring pain screaming up my legs.

I had a bigger problem at hand.

My opponent bit back in surprise and swung around, raising his blade to meet me. Without a thought, I spun off my tummy and met his blade with mine, my head snapping back against the hard floor. The clash of metal tore through the cold silence, like the claw of an animal slashing across its prey. Blood beaded down the side of my face, trailing to my lips.

With a cry, I yanked my rival's sword away from me, his arms snapping back. Before he could react, I jumped to my feet, swinging up my sword in front of me. The blade was light in my hands, so comfortable that it was almost like an extension of my own arm. A deadly extension.

My foe recovered quickly, silently swinging his rapier at me. The blade was a whirl of silver against the grey morning sky. Once again, my sword saved me, cutting the rapier's passage in a deadly match. His force was unbelievable, almost as strong as his dead eyes on me. He swung his blade back and slashed forward again, this time aiming for my knees. The silver blur cut through the cold air, like a cobra striking its attacker. I kicked with my legs and jumped upward, the blade slicing the air beneath me.

I had completely missed it!

The crowd cheered in rough voices, fists punching the air at my minor victory. The pirates swarmed around me and my adversary, dark shadows at the corner of my eye. They were posted everywhere, hanging from ropes, dangling from the mast or sitting atop barrels; they watched us with excited eyes, random cheers clearing the air every time one of us got the better of the other. It was like a boxing match, only with longer toothpicks.

I tilted my blade downward, hilt pointing towards the sky, and jabbed down at my rival's foot, his thin sword still slashing back from its failed attempt with my legs. He was quick though, bouncing away from my attack and lancing at me again, swinging his blade at my head. His favourite spot, I reckon. Without a second thought, I plummeted to the ground, crashing down on the slimy floorboards with a crack of my chin. My eyes fluttered closed momentarily at the impact, my entire body shaking with from the fall. Crops of bronze hair fell along with me, scattering in front of me in cut-off ends. My heart raced in fury at the sight of it.

Did the maniac just cut my hair?!

Jared ran towards me, feet banging against the floorboards like an elephant. Above me, the world was full of noise, the pirates cheering on their ship mate. A metallic taste poured into my mouth; blood. My hand gripped the sword even more tightly as Jared shoved me to my feet, yelling over my head. His voice was hoarse with anger, his breath ragged and short in his chest. Despite the damp, he was sweating like a flea-bitten mutt.

On my feet again, I shoved Jared away, pushing him with my free arm. My sword dragged against the wood as I back-pedaled from my brother, fresh blood trickling down my chin. My head was still spinning from my fall, a momentary blur of swirly, dark shapes. My feet swayed beneath me.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Jared yelled at me as I walked back slowly towards my opponent, swinging my blade slowly. His eyes were a violent blue, an odd contrast to the bleak surroundings. Just behind him, Scarlett stood as silent as dormouse, panic strewn all over her petite face. Her long red hair was braided behind her, stirring in the cold breeze. She looked so different in the skirted overall.

Not so much of a Lady anymore.

"It's not your fight, Jared," I shouted back at my brother, reaching up with the back of the hand that held the sword and wiping the blood from my chin, red staining my hand, "It's mine!" I walked backwards towards my opponent, rubied sword cutting through the air in slow spins. My legs was regaining themselves again, the dark shapes around me slowly reforming themselves. The pirates were cheering, rude words in rough voices trimmed with horrid, wet laughter. Jared bounded towards me, preparing to pull me back. But he was too late.

I was going to finish him.

With a war cry, I swung my blade around to my adversary, spinning my whole body back to my fight. My blade cut through the air, slicing nothingness into shreds, towards the hulk of flesh-

Captain Turner stood before me, his rapier meeting my sword with a sharp clash. My entire body shook at the impact, shuddering to my toes as I stared in surprise at the man in front of me. The captain of the Flying Dutchman stood absolutely still before me, an outstretched hand clutching his silver blade steadily. His face was a silent scowl, his thin lips drawn down in a frown of mild anger. His dark brown eyes were hard, the faint morning light alighting an icy fire within, like an iceberg in the wading darkness. His dark curls were no longer in a bandana; instead, they were now pulled up in a tiny ponytail, messy strands framing his tanned face. The icy breeze stirred his loose ends, gently sliding them over the sides of his face. Somehow, I felt a sudden urge to reach up and brush back his hair.

I swung back the blade, metal screeching over metal with a loud whine as I pulled it towards my side. My heart hammered in my chest. Around me, the pirates had gone an icy silence, faces blank and black in the grey light. The cool air had lost its luster.

"Father," Captain Turner withdrew his blade slowly, drawing it back to his belt, "Why the bloody hell are you dueling with her?" He turned towards my adversary behind him, towards the man who had chopped off the ends of my hair. Captain Turner's father stared at me from behind his son, his dead eyes flashing odd silver.

"She needed a lesson," he replied curtly, slightly swinging the silver blade in his hand. His pasty skin seemed worse in the grey light, his black hair leeching to the sides of his square face. A gnarled-nailed hand gripped his blade ferociously.

"A lesson?"

"In manners," the old man explained, snarling his faded lips. Anger slowly bubbled to life within me once again, fierce and rampant in my heart. Manners?! MANNERS?! That bloody asshole had it coming to him!!

"Let me get this straight," Captain Turner turned a harsh glare towards his father, scrunching his brows angrily, "You, a full grown man, decided to take on a young, untrained girl in single combat just because she was rude?!"

"Will-…"

"No, father," the Captain's sigh cut off his father's protest, his rigid back facing me and his pirates, "There is no excuse." With that, he pivoted on his heels and faced me, a stoic expression on his face. A helpless chill crept up my spine, my heart shaking in an unexplainable way. The hair on the nape of my neck went razor sharp, like the edges of knifes. I wondered where Jared was.

"And you," the Captain's voice was cold as he padded towards me, slowly returning his rapier back to its place at his belt, "You should not play with things you know little of." The pirates were a stony silent behind me, like frozen faces in a dark painting. Not even their raspy breaths whispered to me, not even their slightest movements. The cold breeze still breathed, much more softly now. Up above, the sail hardly stirred.

"Listen, pal-…"

"Swords are not appropriate for ladies," he interrupted, stopping just in front of me, breath hot, "You should not play with them." His hard eyes gazed down at me, though softer now for reasons I knew not of. Behind me, I heard the rapid whispering of my brother. A seagull cawed from somewhere above, piercing the thinly-veiled silence. The wind was slowing down even more.

"Do I look like a lady to you?" I raised an eyebrow at the man before me, brown eyes narrowing slightly. At this, the Captain smiled. It was a perfect smile; one I hadn't seen gracing his face before. It lit up his face entirely, the icy fire in his dark eyes shedding its skin for a more brilliant, fiery one. The cute dimples flashed at his cheeks, laugh lines creeping out into the side of his eyes. It was so beautiful, so beautiful that I almost reached out and pulled him towards me, almost locked him in a kiss of undying passion. I don't what I did to make him smile like that, but I would have done anything to know what it was; I wanted to hold that smile in place, to capture the radiance of his beauty forever in my arms.

Something bloomed inside me, something that wouldn't go away.

The Captain walked past me, leaving me in the cold world yet again. My breath caught in my throat as he paced away behind me, my heart slowing its rhythm. As much as I had wanted the moment to stop, it hadn't. It had come and gone faster then the whip of a hair, a flash of lightening that could never be caught.

Then, just as I made to turn back to the other pirates, to turn back to Jared and Scarlett, a low voice whispered in my ear. His breath was hot against my skin, paralyzing every muscle in my body as he spoke. Jolts of electricity shot through my entire body, my heart threatening to leap out of my chest. Everything around me went still.

"Apparently not."

**Okay…so end of chaper! Sorry if this is not exactly in the plot and is quite short-compared to the other chapters. This is just a transitional chapter-you know, to feel in the gap? I promise that the next chapter would continue on with the storyline. That's it for now!  
**

**XOXO**


	16. A Midnight Affair

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**Okay, everyone! Sorry about the last chapter! This chapter is back into the plot, answering a few unanswered questions and deciding the next path for Joey and Jared. More Will-Joey romance to come…but I promise to tone it down just a little, if it's too much. So please leave a review on wherether the romantic bits between Will and Joey are too fast or too much. **

**Thanks and please enjoy!!**

**Chapter 15**

**A Midnight Affair**

The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, screeching away like the whines of the dead.

I shuddered a breath.

Around me, the world was cold. Mist slithered over the wooden floor, a blanket of white slowly creeping its way across the wet deck. Its cool arms circled at my feet, licking and grappling at my ankles with icy, stiff tongues. Its touch was like cold fire against my skin. Up above, the pale sails wavered, shreds of ghostly sheets sighing gently in the still darkness. They glided among the silent stars, cold and empty faces staring down at me with blinking, silver eyes. The moon joined in their quiet solace, but a face of pale in the cloudless sky. The wind hardly stirred.

I shuddered another breath.

It had been Jared's idea. His god-damned idea. First of all, let it be known to whoever that reads this, I am not a fool. Despite my appearances, I do know the limits of things, the dangers of things. Everything has boundaries and most of the time, I do respect them. This was one of those times.

Jared had insisted upon it, back then during dinner. As I had chomped down on the lovely, yet somehow dry, slab of salmon, talking animatedly to Lestrade and the others, Jared had called on me to visit the Captain. Not now, he had said in reply to my incredulous face, but later, when things were quieter. According to him, I had to talk to the Captain, to query our destination.

I had emptied my cup of water all over his face.

Walking now, in the silence of the ship, the gentle howl of the cold wind like the breath of a ghost against the back of my neck, I knew I was right. No one, NO ONE, in their right minds, would walk around a famous ghost ship at this time of the night. NO ONE.

Okay, maybe the dead.

My knuckles rapped against the wooden door, echoing a sturdy noise through the thick silence. All around me, the mist pressed down, gnawing at my calves with its toothless mouth. The sounds of the sea were barely audible, the gentle rush of the waves hardly heard over the dime of the silence. The wind pulled back my skirted overall, icy cold gnashing my upper thighs like shards of ice. I was so going to kill Jared.

Unlike _Betty_, or the ship we had stolen from Port Royal, no lamps littered the deck. No yellow glow of flickering oil lamps pierced the quiet darkness, no source of light creating pathways in the pitch black. It was all just dark, a strange, impenetrable abyss that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. The only source of light were the blinking stars, the faded moon and the glow of the mist; for reasons unknown, the mist seemed to take on a life of its own, its soft, pale radiance illuminating its ghostly movements across the dark floor.

I wanted to go in.

NOW.

The door shoved open beneath my knuckles, pulling my knocking with it. With surprise, I looked up, pulling my hand back to my side rapidly. John Lestrade's beefy face peered through the gap, his cheeks ruddy as usual. His giant, shaved skull was limned against candlelight, a bronzed nugget in a crest of gold. His grey eyes widened at the sight of me, a grin slowly stretching across his face.

"Miz Wolfe," he grinned his toothy grin, laugh lines wrinkling across his wide face, "How nice to yer again!" I smiled in return. I liked Lestrade. A lot. He was a large man, a giant mountain of bulging muscles. His head was a clean shave, dots of fine black still cropped against his bulky skull. Large ears protruded out of his wide face, his long nose screwed from an old break. Dressed in a loose white shirt, collar cut deep down his chest, and belted tight pants, he reminded me of a shaved gorilla in clothes.

A _hot_, shaved gorilla in clothes.

"Nice to see you too, Lestrade," I found myself smiling, despite the icy chill that gnawed against my skin, "Is the captain in?" The large men paused at this, turning back slightly to gaze over his shoulder. His strong muscles rippled beneath his shirt, rolling over his shoulder like waves. As he turned his head back, I saw his left ear again; the top of the ear had been chipped off, blasted away by a pistol. According to him, anyway. The mist was growing thicker, anchoring my feet to the floor like heavy weights. Out of the corner of my eye, shadows danced, dark, flighty figures twirling at the edges of my imagination in merry, inaudible music. Cat-like eyes peered at me from around the bend, two light bulbs of luminous light staring through the impenetrable dark. My heart hammered in my chest.

I really, _really_, wanted to go in now.

"Come on in, Miz Wolfe," Lestrade opened the wooden door with a gentle shove, letting the golden light of inside wash all over me in warm welcome, "The Captain's waiting."

* * *

The captain's office looked like a monk's sanctum. It was a large room, stretching across the entire width of the ship's stern in a single breath. Its walls were of simple wood, a dark mahogany oak that filled the wide space with a spicy aroma-much like the breath of woods. On either side of the big room, large windows piled from the floor to the ceiling, veiled by dusty, dark brown curtains of velvet. It was a simple room, dark walls bare of any form of decorations except for the lights; curved, bronze handles were nailed into the strong wood, lighted candles melting to a sluggish mess in their grab. The floor was free of any mess, rusted nails knocked neatly into the planks of wood. Unlike the deck outside, the floor of the room was free of algae and moss, tiny sea life growing quietly in the cracks. It looked as if someone had spent a lot of time scrubbing them.

In the back of the room, against the back wall, stood a large desk. It was wide and long, stretching the entire length of the old fireplace behind it. It was of strong wood, waxed and cleaned thoroughly by tireless hands. Its edges were smoothed down by old, stain marks of different shades littered all over its smooth, waxed surface. A dark, faceless seal was carved into the front of the desk, the shadows of the wavering candlelight dancing upon its worn-down face. A stack of heavy books piled at the corner of the desk, books of old and tear. Besides that, the table was void of any other form of accessory.

Standing behind the desk, gazing down at an open, splayed-out map, was Captain Turner. His dark brown hair was spilled all over his face, a mess of brown on his broad shoulders. Unlike the first time I saw him, the Captain wore a black skirted overall, reaching down past his knees. His sleeves were long, rolling down his muscular arms in a tight fight of black. Dark pants clung up his legs to meet the overall, sticking to his skin with patches of sweat. Among all the black, a bit of white peeked at his chest, the skirted overall having being cut loose down its front. White cuff lings too bore his wrists, slipping out from under his black, skin-hugging sleeves. His silver rapier danced at his waist, a dark, tired hand grasping its hilt at his hips. Firelight reflected on the silver, making it glow even more brightly.

What a scene.

"Captain," Lestrade spoke as he led me into the warm room, out of the icy chill of outside, "Miz Wolfe is here." He had a funny way of speaking; his tongue would roll out his words, as if frenching them. His footsteps were but heavy _thuds_ against the wooden planks. At the sound of Lestrade's voice, Captain Turner raised his eyes from the map. Instantly, our eyes met across the room, dark brown meeting hazel. Candlelight danced in his brown eyes, igniting the fiery flames that burned within those dark pools without waver. Shadows whispered across his sharp features, playing and licking his smooth, tanned skin. Once again, I found myself captivated by him, by his angelic beauty. My heart jumped in my chest.

"Miss Wolfe," the Captain's face light up in a smile, making his ridiculously handsome face even more beautiful, "Pleasure to see you again." Without another word of exchange, he let go of his silver hilt and turned back to the fire place, hands reaching. Below him, cascading against his covered shins, the ambers of an old fire smoked, a world of red and blacks just an arm reach away. Coils of black smoke rose up into the air, disappearing up into the chimney in slow rolls. The heart-felt aroma of burnt wood aroused my senses, like the waking from a sludgy dream. My chilled bones were starting to warm up, the ice melting away in the gentle heat.

"Nice to see you too, Captain," I croaked, folding up my arms unconsciously. The door swung to a shut behind me, as if the mist had reached forward a pale hand and snapped it shut. The cold still remained though, slowly melted away by the warmth. In front of me, Lestrade swung to the side of the room, leaving me alone in my place. For a moment, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to follow him or just stay.

"I trust your stay on board has been adequate," the Captain said as he fished around on the mantle, his voice bouncing off the wall infront of him. His cold rapier jingled like Christmas bells by his side, flashing silver and fire. With a soft sound of triumph, he grabbed something.

"More so," I half-grinned at the man's back, goose bumps swarming all over me for no reason, "Lestrade and your men have been amazing. Sure, they're a little creepy, but I'm used to that by now." At the mention of the man's name, Lestrade grinned at me, his toothy smile tearing across his giant face. He now leaned beside the left window, a bulky, tall heap of flesh against the dark wood. His giant arms crossed themselves over his massive chest, his 15-sized boots kicked outwards from the wall. In the bright firelight, his face looked even redder. I remained where I stood, in the center of the room.

"I'm sure they were," the Captain chuckled at my words, pivoting on his heels slowly back to face me. In his right hand, he grasped an outlandish-looking bottle, tinted black and painted gold. Firelight reflected like pyres on the bottle's dark surface. In his other hand, his nimble fingers held two clear glasses, shiny and clean in the light. My heart sang.

"Oh, yeah," I found myself talking again, eyes watching curiously as the Captain opened the black bottle with ease, "They were great. In fact, Lestrade here taught me how to sail a mast. And fish. Fishing is very important, you know." From his corner, Lestrade's grin widened gratefully. The bottle opened with a quick _pop_, the Captain catching the rubber cap before it flew away. Almost instantly, the smell of alcohol swarmed the entire room, the closed space trapping the sweet, enduring smell. I took in a grateful whiff.

"Good," the Captain spoke as he emptied the black, glass bottle into the two clear glasses, "Then, all is well?" The brown liquid sloshed its way into the glasses, quickly filling them to the brink. Not a drop laid astray. Once done, the Captain set down his near-empty bottle and looked up at me with a genuine smile, waving a tanned hand at the two glasses. Without a thought, I strode forward quickly, boots echoing, and swiped a brimful glass of the table top, fingers never quicker. Sweet liquid spilled to the floor as I tipped the glass back and drowned its contents, the cool alcohol sliding down my tongue and stinging my throat. It was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, the back of my eyelids burning with dull fire. I felt my chest give in to a heave of sigh.

It was only when I slammed my glass back down on the table did I realize Captain Turner's amused stare. He too held the glass of alcohol in his hand, though he had only sipped it. I found myself blushing, an act I didn't quite always do-the Captain had been prepared to offer a toast, to join our drinks together in offer of something like wealth or health. However, I had destroyed the moment with my hastiness. Embarrassment swarmed me for a moment.

For just a moment.

"Rather fine for a pirate, don't you think?" I cocked my head at the black bottle as I gulped back my shame, fingers still toying with the empty glass. In my haste, I had covered the entire length of the room, towards the table. Now, I stood only a meter before the Captain, an arms reach away.

I could almost touch him.

"It was a gift from the King of England," the Captain smiled at me, slowly sipping his drink. I choked in surprise.

"The King gave _you_ something?!"

"Me?" the Captain's smile widened into a full beam, "Who said anything about me?" I couldn't help but smile in return. Once again, this undeniable feeling crept over me, plunging me into a sea of emotions. I could barely control myself. A raw desire in me yearned to stride forward, to brush back the man's curls and run my fingers through his velvet brown. I wanted to cup his chin, to stroke his smooth face with my fingers, to whisper sweet things against his lips. I wanted to feel his hot breath on me, to feel his long arms around me, protecting me. I wanted to feel the touch of his skin, the burn of his body, the breath of his passion.

I wanted him.

I had no idea why.

"Why are you here?" a rude, hoarse voice broke me out of my reverie. It had come from my right, on the opposite wall from Lestrade. With surprise, I peeled my eyes away from the Captain to gaze across the room, to the source of the voice.

Bootstrap Bill, the old man with dead eyes, stood at the corner of the room, leaning heavily against a closed door. Like his son, he was all in black, baggy shirt and dark pants clinging loosely to his skin. His black, flat cap still sat on his head, leechy, dark hair spilling out over his face. Cold, dead eyes stared at me from across the room, the wrinkles that shouldered it pale and greasy like the scales of fish. Anger and irritation inflamed me, yet again.

"Where the hell did you come from, Bootstrap?" I gritted my teeth as I spoke, narrowing my eyes at the older man until they were but slits of gold in my face. The cold of earlier, the icy breath of the night that had shrouded me had melted away; the warmth of the firelight crept beneath my skin, wrapping around my bones.

It had been only yesterday that Lestrade and his autistic friend, Lucas, had told me of the Captain's father. Used to be a famous pirate, they had said- their eyes were big with excitement as they told me the story up on the deck-Bootstrap Bill was what he was named. There was a lot more to the tale then that, of course, but I hadn't really listened.

I wasn't interested in the freak that chopped at my hair.

"I could ask you the same thing," the old croak growled, returning my glare with vehemence. He folded his pale, wrinkly arms across his large shirt, legs stiff and rigid. His pale, wet face was set in a scowl, lips turned down so much that they touched his chin. His eyes were empty and cold, the spark of life you would see in anyone else's eyes absent, missing in action. Once again, I couldn't help but compare between father and son.

The differences were strikingly unpleasant.

"I asked you first, you filthy-…."

"That's enough," the captain's voice resounded fiercely, interrupting me before I could finish my condemnation. His voice had regained its usual authoritative luster, firming up sternly. My open mouth refused to shut, though. With a slightly clenched fist, the Captain set the nearly-empty glass back on the table top and sank back into the chair behind him. The chair was decorative, a large, wooden full-back with intricate design. A plush, red pillow covered its seat, embroided in gold. The limits of pirates, really. Bootstrap and I continued our death glare match as the Captain sat down on his chair, arms resting on the wooden armrest with a heavy sigh. Lestrade leaned at the corner in silence.

Without a word, the Captain waved at Lestrade, eyes lifting up to his second mate for only a second or so. The large man understood, though. With haste unmatched by his size, he dashed to the curtains beside him and reached behind them with a hand, fiddling with the dust. His fingers played around behind the cloth for a while, until finally, there was a _creak_-the window behind the curtain swung open, fresh sea air howling through. The dusty curtains swiped into the air, scattering clouds of fine dust into the room. The thick sensation of alcohol and wood dissipated as the air rushed in, my hand automatically covering my nose and mouth at the sight of the flying dust.

Someone forgot to go to the dry cleaners today.

"My father is right, though," Captain Turner cut through my reverie, dark eyes glancing up at me curiously, hands kneaded, "It is late. Is there a reason you are here, Miss Wolfe?" He had dropped his stern, authoritative voice instantly, switching back to his velvet, strong tone. Pyres of fires laughed merrily in his dark eyes. His fingers busied themselves, playing silently with his nearly-empty cup. Annoyance seeped away.

"Joey," I corrected, meeting the Captain's gaze without waver, "its Joey."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name," I further explained, biting my lip unconsciously as Lestrade coughed loudly by the window, "My name's Joey. Please don't call me miss….its weird." My arms rubbed each other comfortingly, though I no longer felt cold. Bootstrap watched me from his perch, a hawk with piercing, dead eyes. Captain Turner's thin lips stretched again in a smile, a deep, throaty chuckle spilling out of his lips. Still chuckling away, he raised his boot-claded feet and leisurely, set them on the table, leaning lazily back on his chair. Less then an inch of wine sloshed about in the clear glass.

"I see," he smiled at me, raising the clear glass to his up-turned lips, "Then, I must insist upon something."

"Yeah?"

"If I call you Joey, then you must call me by my name. You must call me Will. Not captain, but Will. Understood?" For a minute or so, silence stretched between us. Will. _Will_. I couldn't help but run that name in my mind over and over again, exploring the thought of it. It had such a ring to it, such a dramatic emphasize. Would this name make my heart spin insanely? Would it hold up all my strength? Would it be the center of my world?

Maybe.

"Agreed," I nodded my head at the man before me, slouching in his throne. Will smiled in return, eyes flashing fire. The breath of the wind, calling in from the window, pulled his hair back, the orange-glinted curls waving gently. From the corner of the room, Bootstrap snorted in disgust. I turned a glare at him.

"Now," Will leaned back even more, head resting against the wooden back, "Tell me. Why are you here, Joey?" I liked the way he said my name, the way he curled it gently over his tongue. By the look on his face, maybe he did too. I cleared my throat and spoke, ignoring that idiotic Bootstrap's glare.

"It's my brother," I breathed, hands dropping down to my side, "He's concerned."

"About what?" Will's tanned brow crinkled in confusion, perhaps in worry as well. He tipped back the glass and drowned the last of the bottle's contents, not letting a single drop fall. I suddenly yearned for a second glass.

"The situation," I sighed, looking down at the older man with slight reluctance, "You see, Captain-I mean, Will, my brother and I…and Scarlett have been here for three days already. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the time…because I fucking did, you know. It's been really cool here; trust me when I say this. Everyone here is really nice…creepy, but nice. It's just…" I paused, looking down at the man with a sigh. My hands were wrying together, my upper teeth gnawing on my lips. This _was_ stupid. I wasn't Jared's messenger! I didn't owe him anything! I wasn't the one-

"You want to go home," Will said for me, gazing up at my silent form with clear eyes. His chest heaved in and out, moving the black overall with it. His black boots swayed on their heels on the table, much like the gentle rocking of the ship beneath me. Beneath his feet, the old map laid crinkled, smudged here and there by dirt from the boots. A wooden projector laid just by his heels.

"Yeah," I gulped, breathing deeply. My hands continued their wringing. At the other end of the table, Will waved a lazy hand behind him, towards his father. Just like Lestrade, Bootstrap reacted quickly. He stood upright and turned around; opening the door he had leaned on just a second ago. The wooden door creaked back nosily, the hinges rusted with old and damp. At the sound, a flash of memory dashed across my mind, like an electric jolt out of nowhere. My breath caught in my lungs.

_The old house on Manor Street…thought to be haunted by the ghost of Old Farmer Riley…last summer…Reid's stupid dare…Johnny, Jasper and I marching up the rickety stairs…full moon…crickets chirping…flashlight beam on wood…moan of the wind…creaking of the front door…_

I shook my head, chasing out the memory. How long had it been since then? How long had it been since Reid dared us to venture into the town's favourite haunted house, to spend a night where kids had nightmares of?

How long had it been since home?

Before I could fully snap myself out of my reverie, Bootstrap had dragged a wooden stool from the room beyond the door and had slammed it down before me, face screwed up in distaste. The chair fell with a loud _thud_ at my feet, jolting me awake.

The fog cleared.

"Father…" Will groaned as I picked up the wooden stool quickly, glaring at the old man before me. He was really getting on my nerves. At the other end of the table, Will shook his head silently and ran a tanned hand through his hair, bronzed fingers parting the sea of brown. I wanted to run my hand through his hair too. At the window, Lestrade maintained his silence. With a last glare at the old man, I shifted down on to my seat and returned my attention to Will.

"Now," Will breathed again, casting a slight glare at his father as the old man retreated to his corner, closing the slightly ajar wooden door with a snap, "Let's continue, shall we?"

"Fine by me."

"Alright," the captain sighed as he pushed away the empty glass, though now stained slightly by the drink, "Now, I understand. You want to get home. I, of all people, understand that. However, Joey, I'm afraid you can't right now." I leaned forward in my stool, crossing my arms on my lap. By the window, Lestrade coughed again. By now, I was thoroughly warm, the heat from the fire like welcome licks on my skin. The cold from the open window made it better, mingling the heat with the cool air so as to make it not too stuffy. Some hot cocoa with floating marshmallows wouldn't hurt right now.

"Why not?"

"Because Calypso isn't responding," Will replied, gazing at me apologetically, feet still swaying atop the table.

"Huh?"

"I sent a letter, three days ago. I merely questioned her involvement in you and your brother's predicament, asking only if she had a hand in your problem. She has not replied; and in this world, Joey, when the Goddess of the Sea doesn't reply me, her sole slave, in three days there can only be three reasons." He had said the word _slave_ quite savagely, biting down at it with slight bitterness. A small fire of anger and hate ignited in his eyes, before quickly extinguishing into blackness. A chill crept over me.

"Three reasons?" I raised an eyebrow at the man, looking at him intently.

"Yes," Will nodded, slouching back on his throne, "Three. Firstly, she could be in trouble, or in a predicament that requires her to abandon her duty. Secondly, she could be avoiding me-…"

"Avoiding you?!" I voiced out, raising both eyebrows this time, "Why on earth would she be avoiding you?!" Lestrade answered for his captain, voice chipped as usual.

"Because de Captain hasn't been doing his duties the past three days, Miz Wolfe," the large man spoke, making me spin around on my stool to face him, "De Goddess could be angry at him." Lestrade's explanation didn't work. I was still fucking confused. I whirled back to Will with confused eyes, brows crinkled and eyebrows raised. Bootstrap was silent at the door, blending into the shadows. Thankfully, Will caught my look.

"I told you, Joe," Will spoke firmly, eyes abandoning me to study his hands again, "My duty, my fate is to harbour souls that perished at sea to the lands beyond. It is the sacred duty of me, of us. The dead. You, your brother and Miss Scarlett-you are all not dead. You are living. With you three on board, we cannot carry out our jobs." I opened my mouth to speak in astonishment but the Captain cut me off, raising a slender hand in pause. In the firelight, his hands looked scarred, as if someone had taken a knife and scrap it all over the man's hand.

My imagination, really.

"Don't bother to apologize, Joey," Will smiled faintly without humour, a kind sort of smile, "I promised I will get you home. And that is what I will do." Here he paused, his hand falling back down to his lap. Our eyes met again, connecting over the short distance between us. There was something about him, something so different about him. Though he looked so calm all the time, so steady and resolute, his eyes spoke different; a storm sometimes waged in them, as if the soul in the very depths of him burned in an endless fire. I wanted to know this man, wanted to know his secrets and desires. I wanted to hold him as he wept, to wash away his tears with my hand, to rock him to sleep on horrid nights.

I wanted to feel his hand in mine.

"Anyway," Will had started to speak again, eyes peeling away from me to study his hands again, a strange red creeping up his cheeks, "the third reason is of course that she had been involved in this. Heck, I believe she bloody orchestrated it." The last bit earned a low chuckle from Lestrade, a deep rumble in the gentle howl of the wind. Bootstrap betrayed no emotion. My gaze left Will as well and fell to the floor, my mind spinning with thoughts. What now? If Calypso isn't responding, what do we do? For the past three days, I had hoped, perhaps _believed_, that this strange, mystical Goddess of the Sea was the answer to our problem, our ticket home. It had seemed to be the only way. And now, it wasn't.

_Back to square one_, my mind whispered with a sigh, my heart hammering to a low dull. Despair slowly flooded me.

Were we ever going to go home?!

"We could find Sparrow," Will's voice was soft and comforting, almost as if he had reached forward and held my hand. His voice struck a chord in my heart, the strange feeling blooming in my chest again. With a scowl, I lifted my eyes from the floor and glared at the Captain.

"Why on earth would I want to do that?" I growled, a fresh storm of anger washing through me. My insides churned around like a washing machine, awakened by that name. _Sparrow_. I need to get myself a harpoon.

"Sparrow might know something," Will seemed to be oblivious to my change of mood, perhaps more of ignoring, "He knew Calypso for a long time. Longer then me." He drew his legs off the table and leaned forward now, fingers kneaded together over the map. His dark eyes watched me with concern, a tender attempt of comfort. Bright fires still danced in those dark pools. I shook my head.

"No," I said in reply, absolutely certain, "Sparrow wouldn't help."

"Don't be too hasty."

"Look," I narrowed my eyes at the handsome man unconsciously, sighing with a deep breath, "I don't care how well you know Sparrow. Ok? I told him. I told him of our problem and he didn't believe me. He didn't BELIEVE! He can't help us." I crossed my arms across my chest in finality, completely resolute in my position. I can't believe Cap-Will would even think that that son of-

"Sparrow knows more then he lets on," Will countered me, eyes flashing fire, "Trust me. I _know_. He probably believed, Joey. He probably knew you spoke truth."

"Then, why did he pretend that he didn't?" I shook my head in incredulity, eyes wide with anger, "Why didn't he help us?"

"Because that's Sparrow!" he slammed his fists down so quickly that my heart jolted with the _bang_. The wood groaned under the slam, creaking like old hinges. Splinters poked into Will's hand, his dark eyes staring down at his fists. For a moment, silence engulfed us. Lestrade coughed a muffled sound by the window. My breath stated in my lungs. After a moment's breath, Will drew back his fists, gazing down at them solemnly.

"You must excuse me, Joey," he mumbled, easing his clenched fist slowly, palms upward, "I don't really like Sparrow."

"High-five, bro," I scoffed a little laugh and raised my hand for the usual formalities-but didn't receive it.

Of course not.

It was Bootstrap that ended this awkward moment, striding out of the shadows and into view.

"Jack Sparrow can help," he glared his cold, dead eyes at me, limp hair flying weakly back in the breeze, "He knew the Goddess back when she was trapped in her human form. If there is anyone who would know how to contact her-…"

"There is Barbossa," Lestrade shrugged from across the room, face red in the candlelight, "He knew her well too."

"Yes," Bootstrap's voice was as strained as a violin's string, brow frowning at the younger man across the room, "But Sparrow-…"

"Sparrow won't help, ok?" I breathed in utter exasperation, throwing my hands up into the air and gazing at all of my companions in turn, "He-doesn't-care, alright? He doesn't care. All he cares about is getting back his god-damned ship and finding that stupid fountain of his. He doesn't give a shit if I rolled over and-…"

"Wait," Will nearly got out of his seat, eyes refocusing on me again, "What did you say?"

"Sparrow doesn't' care if I-…"

"No, no" Will waved me off, eyes drawn wide with sudden interest, "Not that. Before that. What does Sparrow care about?" He looked at me with such excitement, as if I had just announced my pregnancy. His fingers splayed out on the table top, nails digging into the world map. His chest heaved faster. Around me, Bootstrap and Lestrade seemed equally puzzled, Bootstrap looking down at his son in confusion as Lestrade strode up towards me, silent. My brow crinkled.

"Sparrow…cares about his ship," I said slowly, not really sure what the handsome Captain wanted. I found myself shrinking back slightly at this awkward event. Lestrade found his place beside me and stood still, gazing down at his Captain in confusion. He too had no idea what the man was talking about.

"And?!" Will waved his hand persistently, leaning forward towards me. Curiosity and excitement swarmed in his eyes, slight frustration creeping in. My brows crinkled even more, my hands folding across my chest self-consciously. I screwed my face slightly.

"And his fountain," I finished, utterly confused, staring at the man before me, "I don't know what it means though. He and that son of a bitch Gibbs kept babbling about it, about how they were going after it the moment they got Sparrow's ship back. They sounded like lunatics. Honestly, though, I don't know what they meant."

"I do," Will's voice was in a daze as he slowly rose to his feet, the heavy chair sliding back against the floor. Shadows danced across his face as he rose, all eyes staring at him curiously. The cloth of his overall swooshed gently in the wind, his hair picking up momentum and swinging back. His dark eyes stared past me, past us, towards the blank wall behind; it was as if we weren't even there. To either of my side, Lestrade and Bootstrap watched with wide, curious eyes, brows crinkled as much as mine. I was fucking confused.

"Captain?" Lestrade voiced out, tilting his head slightly. He reached a beefy arm out, towards his commander, but thought better of it and retreated. The wind picked up speed.

Without a word, Will pivoted on his toes and swung towards the fireplace, dark curls shaking. His nimble hand gripped the hilt of his rapier again, grasping it as if it held the plug to his life. His feet paced the wooden floor, up and down, up and down across the width of the fireplace. Inside, the fire still sparked with some life, glowing ambers lit here and there by small flames. Black smoke still lolled. Silently, Will reached up a hand to rub his stubble as he thought, his feet pacing uncontrollably as the gears of his mind creaked and groaned in exertion. His eyebrows bent towards one another, his eyes trained against emptiness below him. I wanted to pry open his brain and look inside; what the hell was he thinking about?

"Will?" his father called beside me, curiosity raining over his voice. Yet, the man didn't seem to hear him. Instead, he mumbled to himself, mind and body completely concentrated on something. I barely heard his words.

"-so that's where the map went! That bastard Sparrow…all this time, he had the key-…"

"Will?" I breathed, interrupting the Captain's alone time. At my voice, the man swung around, facing us again. His face was contorted in extreme concentration, realization alighting his dark, beautiful eyes. At the sight of me, he dropped his hand from his chin, towards his side again. There was a strange glow to his face, an almost feverish pallor that hadn't been there a few minutes ago. Dancing shadows licked his face, enhancing the curve of his jaw, the point of his nose, the shape of his lips. My heart shuddered in my chest.

"What is it?" I asked, goose bumps popping all over me. The suspense was killing me. On either of my side, Lestrade and Bootstrap wore equal expressions of curiosity and anticipation. Lestrade's meaty hand eased over my shoulder, squeezing it painfully. The old man didn't breathe beside me. At the other side of the table, Will looked at us blankly. His lips parted but his gears worked again, thoughts distracting him. For a moment or so, he stared blankly into space, thinking furiously. His brows crinkled in concentration. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the handsome man spoke, his voice striking my heart and holding it in its grasp.

"The Fountain of Youth."

**Alright! That's it for now!! Trust me; the next chapter will be up soon. So look out for it!! Anyway, thanks to all those who made reviews and please, if you have any comments or suggestions, please leave a review for me. Thank you so much!**

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**XOXO**


	17. The Fountain of Youth

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTC, only Joey, Jared, Scarlett, Lestrade, Seadog and all the other random people in there.**

**Thanks and please enjoy!!**

**Chapter 16**

**The Fountain of Youth**

Not for the first time, I wondered why the hell I was here.

"What?" Bootstrap voiced out beside me, dead eyes bulging at the man before us. Captain Will Turner paced the floor impatiently, the fading light of the small fire cascading shadows across his fine features. His white teeth gnawed at his lower lip, tension mixed with excitement chasing across his face. His hand still grasped at his rapier's hilt, as if interrupted, the man would draw it out and cut down whomever who stood in his path. I made it a note to stay at my seat. Beside me, Lestrade was silent as well, gazing at his Captain with utter confusion.

"The Fountain of Youth!" Will waved his free hand in sudden excitement, eyes alight with a strange fire, "It has to be it!" His feet paced impatiently across the width of the fireplace, an annoying repetitive noise in my head. I crunched up my brow in bewilderment.

"What has to be it?"

"What Jack was after!" Will explained, his dark eyes growing wide with energy, "What else would he have meant by 'the fountain'? What else?!" He was like a child presented with a new toy, a flashy remote car or a bouncing ball. The wind had lulled to a mere breeze, barely felt anymore. Lestrade's hand was a chunk of warm meat on my shoulder. In my head, thoughts swirled around in a dizzy whirlpool. What on earth was going on? What the heck was the Fountain of Youth? More importantly, why the fuck does it matter?!

For a moment or so, silence spaced between us. Will's face was covered in a sheen of sweat, as if the last few seconds of unexplainable excitement had taken all out of him. Bright, dancing fire burned in his eyes, wilder then before. His dark hair was still messy. On either side of me, Lestrade and Bootstrap maintained their silence, eyes watching their captain with bewilderment, perhaps with a little concern as well. Questions pounded against the inside of my skull. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Bootstrap spoke.

"Son," his voice was still and calm, somehow so different then usual, "It's just a legend." There was a ring of sadness in his voice, as if sharing a pain that only Will could feel. A torturous, heart-wrenching pain. Almost instantly, my mind flashed back to three days ago, to the aftermath of our conversation with the Captain in the small, stuffy room.

The sob.

My heart quaked in pity.

"You're one to talk, Father," Will's eyes narrowed slightly as he gave all his attention to the idiot beside me, "If you haven't noticed, we too live a legend." His voice had mellowed down a mere lull, the fire in his eyes fading slightly. His hand still griped the hilt of his silver blade, a scowl slowly spreading across his face. His dark curls shook gently. Something was happening here, something I didn't understand. From the way Lestrade's hand gripped my shoulder even more tightly, I guess he too was deeply puzzled.

"This is different," Bootstrap answered cryptically, shaking his gangly head, "Will, you can't change-…"

"Why the bloody hell not?!" the shout erupted out of Will like a volcano spouting fire, his voice booming over our heads. For the first time in my life, I was actually shocked by someone yelling. His voice had come out of nowhere, dissipating the smooth illusion he had of himself; confident, calm and resolute. Goose bumps popped all over me at his raised voice, my neck arching back in surprise. I wanted to cower away. Beside me, Lestrade seemed to feel the same, hand tightening on my shoulder with a shudder. The wind picked up speed again.

"Will-…" Bootstrap began, reaching out an arm but his son turned away, towards the dying fire behind him. The flames lighted up his hair, turning the dark brown into a fiery shade of pale. Shadows arched all over him, wavering as the fire slowly died away. Smoke rolled upwards, slowly disappearing up the chimney. The world smelt of salt, wood and fire.

In a single movement, Will rolled out of his dark coat, shaking it to the floor. The black coat slided down to the wooden boards with a soft _thump_, revealing his snow-white, long-sleeved shirt beneath it. Sweat clung the white cloth to his skin, forcing out the shape of his muscles, his form. I gulped.

"What's the fountain of youth?" I cut the silence like a knife, voice cracking slightly. It was high time somebody changed the subject, change it to something less awkward. Besides, Lestrade and I had no effing idea what was going on; to keep out someone from a conversation is pure rudeness. My voice brought back the Captain to the room, making him turn back to us. The fires in his eyes were duller now.

"Have you not heard of it?" he scrunched up his brow slightly, hand leaving his hilt so as to rest leisurely on his hips. The collar of the white shirt cut deep down his chest, revealing his shaven muscles. The golden medallion hung there, as it had the first time I laid my eyes on him. In the wavering candlelight, it gleamed brightly, rising up and down along with its bearer's breathing. A small skull was engraved into its middle, jaw open and eye sockets black. The sight of it made a chill creep up my skin.

Creepy….

"NO," I answered, drawing sarcasm into my voice as I glared up at the man, "Dude, I'm from a century that doesn't read books, let alone know all about this legend stuff….Okay, maybe I do read books. But things like this-you know what, never mind. Just….just tell me what it is, okay?" I don't know what it was that I did, but the Captain seemed to have regained his good mood, a smile splashing across his face as I spoke. His eyes twinkled again and the strange fire in his eyes, the one that burned so fiercely and angrily, was drowned away by the usual pyre of flames. His dark pools avoided his father.

Beside me, Lestrade's hand remained tight on my shoulder, tensing my muscles like a violin's string. I couldn't bear to shove his hand away, no matter the pain. In the three days I had gotten to know him, I knew that despite his size, the second mate was a real softie. Instead, I reached back and patted his meaty hand.

"Joey, something about you…." Will smiled as he trailed off, the grin lighting up his face again. He was so much more beautiful with his smile. With a quick brush through his hair, he began to talk; eyes alight with a familiar flame.

"The Fountain of Youth was a legend first told by the Arawaks," Will explained, eyes on me as he leaned back against the mantel. The fire was slowly smoking to death. From across the table, I nodded my head.

"Arawaks," I echoed, hand still over Lestrade's, "I know about them. Natives of the Caribbean." Will rewarded me with a single nod. I had of course learned about the Arawaks in school, during a class that I truly have forgotten half about. Lestrade's grip on my shoulder didn't loosen at all. On my other side, Bootstrap was silent, watching his son with haunting eyes. For the first time, I wondered at his thoughts.

"Yes," Will nodded again, kicking his coat away from the billowing smoke with a booted foot, "They are natives of this water. I have, on several occasions, met with some. Quiet people, peaceful. Their lands are being pillaged as colonies everyday….but enough of that. If you have heard of the Arawaks, then perhaps you heard of Sequence."

"What?"

"Among the Arawaks, there is a legend," he continued, as if I hadn't even spoken, "It's a tale past down through generations, among the different Arawak tribes." He paused for a dramatic effect and then continued, hands still on hips.

"The Arawaks believe that among the islands of this sea, there lay a land. An island, rich and prosperous with resources and wildlife. A goldmine to the British Empire if ever found, I assure you. According to the natives, on this very island lies the key to immortality. The Fountain of Youth." His eyes glowed brightly, watching me with a small smile of wonder on his face. Lestrade's hand still squeezed my shoulder.

"Huh?" I arched an eyebrow, not caring if I sounded stupid. None of this made sense. However, Will seemed to have the patience of the world.

"It is believed," he explained, slowly straightening his back and beginning to walk, "that the Fountain of Youth holds the cup to eternal life. One cupful from the waters of the Fountain and the drinker shall live forever, never ailing, never dying. A toast at immortality." He padded towards us, rounding the giant table in slow steps. His nimble hands left his hips to cup each other behind his back, fingers winding together. His eyes trained on me as he spoke, as if Lestrade and his father weren't even there. Lestrade's hand was becoming sweaty on my shoulder.

"Immortality...," my voice trailed, taking the information in slowly, "One cup?"

"One cup," Will echoed his smile widening as he reached the edge of the table, just in front of Lestrade, "One cup is all it takes." For a moment or so, I sat there, trying to make sense of the threads in my head. This was like the Verdad all over again. All my life, I never believed in magic. No one did. Jared didn't. Johnny didn't. It was a stupid thing to believe in magic, an extremely uncool gesture. Yet, here I was, 300 years in the past, all forms of magic popping their faces before me. First, it was the whole magical time-machine in our attic. Then, it was the Verdad, speaking the truth of one's heart. Now, it was this. The Fountain of Youth. The bowl of never-ending life.

Could this be full of more shit?!

"Sequence," I frowned my eyebrows at the Captain, tuning down the voices in my head, "You mentioned Sequence. What's that?"

"It's a he," Will corrected, gazing down at me as he leaned back against the edge of the table, a breath away. Lestrade and Bootstrap were silent, the beefy man before Will giving out a loud, wet cough. Bootstrap seemed almost like a statue beside me, waves of icy cold radiating off him. I wondered, not for the first time, why he seemed to be deader then the others like Lestrade. My brow crinkled even more.

"Dude, explain would'cha?"

"The Arawaks spoke of many tales of the Fountain, of Boinca-…"

"Woah, what?! Boing-what?"

"Boinca," Will chuckled, running his tanned fingers through his hair again, parting his messy curls gently, "The island where the Fountain of Youth is believed to be." At this distance, I could smell him; taste his aroma on the tip of my tongue. He smelled heavenly, a warm mixture of cinnamon and wood. For a second, my muscles spasmed in their place, my fingers dying to reach forward to him as his scent glided over me in a wave. My breath caught in my throat, my heart stopping in its place. What was it with this man?!

"Anyway," Will's eyes fell on me, his dark pools as beautiful as stars on a clear night, "One of the tales that the Arawaks often speak of is that of Sequence, an Arawak chief of a large tribe. According to legend, the young man had been unable to resist the lure and myths of the Fountain, of its promise of never-ending life. Thus, he gathered a troupe of his men and sailed north." He stopped speaking, eyes boring into mine. I looked straight back, momentarily forgetting everyone else in the room. The strange feeling in my chest, the one screaming and thudding away, seemed to get worse, blooming in different shades. My muscles seemed to freeze up again. Lestrade's voice broke the connection, sending a shudder of surprise through me.

"Wha' happened den, Cap'tain?"

"They never returned," Will answered smoothly, drawing his eyes away from me to gaze at the taller man before him. I have never been more relieved. The Captain's face screwed up slightly at his second mate as he spoke again, eyes narrowing.

"I'm surprised, Lestrade. I thought you, of all people, would know more about this kind of things. Your mother, after all, was one of swamp-witches."

At Will's words, I turned back to gaze up at Lestrade's beefy face with an incredulous look splayed all over my features. The large man's thin lips stretched out in a nervous smile, skin taking on a shade of deep red. Without a thought, he lifted his hand off my shoulder and ran it over his shaven head, in a single, smooth motion.

WHAT THE HELL?!

"Must hav forgotten, sir."

"Swamp witch?!" I let my incredulity sink into those words, staring up at the second mate with wide, disbelieving eyes just as he finished answering his Captain. This was becoming more and more ridiculous! Lestrade turned away from the man before him and gazed down at me, a shaky, toothy grin plastered across his red face. His blue eyes avoided by hazels, gazing nearer to my feet. He mumbled the next words at me, cheeks reddening by the second.

"Yes, Miz Wolfe."

"You said your mother was a seamstress."

"Aye, she is. But she was also a witch as well, Miz Wolfe." At this lame response, I flared my nostrils up at the man. Like I said before, I liked Lestrade. I truly did. He was a really nice guy, modest and cute. He had spent the last three days making our stay on this ship as comfortable as possible, ensuring our living conditions were adequate and entertaining us with stories after stories. For a man just touching twenty, he knew more tales then my father ever did. So, I did like Lestrade. I truly did. He was just a very, very poor liar. With a deep sigh and a roll of my eyes, I turned back to the Captain, towards the train of conversation.

Will had left his perch at the front of the desk, just before Lestrade. Now, he stood back behind the wooden table, smoke billowing in thick grey behind him. His dark curls fell in ringlets over his face, kissing his shadowy skin as the wind shook again. His dark, beautiful eyes studied the table top, at the old map that laid splayed out upon it. His fingers traced something, his lips muttering inaudible words. The gold medallion glinted at his chest. How he had gotten there, in such a short period of time, was a mystery to me. Surely, he moved fast.

By the window, two candles had their flames snuffed out, the wind trapping them in between its palms and squeezing them to death. The brown curtains flew with the wind, sweeping above the rush of the sea air. I raked a hand through my hair to smooth it out, patting down my overall as its skirt lifted up slightly; the cold wind sliced underneath my skirt, gnashing mercilessly. Why was the warmth seeping away?

"Joey," Will's voice cut through my reverie, snapping me back to the present-sort of-, "Come here." There was no order in his voice, just a suggestion to step forward. His eyes remained on the yellow map. Without a word, I complied, slowly rising from my stool. At either side of me, Lestrade and Bootstrap turned their gaze to me, eyes curious; I had almost forgotten that Bootstrap was right beside me-he had been so quiet. With a deep breath, I strode forward, crossing the gap between the stool and the table with a single step.

Before me, Will continued his campaign against the map, staring down at the black ink with fierce concentration. His dark curls hid half his face, like a tent of hair over his forehead. I wanted to reach forward and stroke them back. After a moment of staring at Will's down-turned head in silence, the latter looked up, a small smile of triumph splashing across his face.

"Here," he announced, eyes wide with excitement, twinkling, "Here is where it is." Without a thought, I leaned forward and looked down at the yellow map with him. It was an old map, yellow and torn with age. Its ends had been nailed to the table top, rusted, bronze nails that tore through the old parchment rather savagely. The map showed plainly; across its yellow surface, drawn in dark Indian ink, was the map of the Atlantic Ocean, from the shores of Miami to the beaches of Mauritania. Everything was drawn crudely, misshapen at the very least. The whole of North and South America was shown in the shape of boots, iconic places such as Port Royal and Florida spelled out in cursive black. The ocean was nothing but an empty space of decaying yellow, its name written in small letterings right in the middle. Europe was shown as well, London, Madrid and Paris popping out of the map in bold letters. At the side of the map, just beside Chile, a ship had been drawn in pure black; sails high and waves crashing. A royal seal dabbed the top of the parchment, just outside the ocean.

"Nice map."

"Look here," Will's fingers traced over the map, a striking bronze against the yellow. I followed it. A singular finger laid just below Mexico, plunging into the yellow sea. Dots of islands scattered around his finger, too small to be named. The large, cursive words of 'Port Royal' laid about 5 centimeters away from the Captain's finger, naming an island about the size of a green bean. I never thought it had been that big.

"The Caribbean?"

"No, no," Will leaned forward, down-turned head moving closer to mine, "Over here." His finger shifted a little lower, nearer towards shore. On the left of his bronze finger, the yet-to-be-discovered lands of Belize, Guatemala and Honduras shouldered the sea, in a strange, drawn curve. Little islands dotted the gulf, but specks of ink on the yellow parchment. It took awhile for it to sink in.

"The Gulf of Honduras," I voiced, still staring down at the map. Opposite me, I felt Will's curls brush gently against my head as he looked up, confused. I raised my head too, meeting his eyes with mine. Hot breath danced across my skin, his nose but two inches from me. If I but reached forward-

"What?"

"Where you're pointing," I nodded my head at him, clearing away the fog of daydreams, "That's the Gulf of Honduras." Behind me, I heard Lestrade mumble something crude.

"How do you know that?" Will's breath was hot as he spoke, brow crinkling gently. His other hand laid splayed out on the table top, just above Angola. Not for the first time, I wanted to inch a hand forward and hold his. I fluttered my eyelids slightly and looked him straight in the eye, never wavering. My heart hammered against my chest.

"My dad," I shook my head slightly, arching my back in a lazy stretch, "He liked maps. Made me memorize every country, capital, canyon and gulf in the world." A small smile peeked onto my face despite the situation, my eyes still trained on the man before me. For some reason, flashes of the good old days began to chase across my mind, widening my grin. I nodded back down at the map, towards Will's lone finger.

"That's the Gulf of Honduras," I nodded my head again, turning my eyes back to the map, towards the unmarked region, "It's full of islands." For a second, silence engulfed us again. The wind breathed, running through my hair with an icy sigh. My eyes kept on the map, my thoughts flying away from me.

_An 11-year old me…flames licking in the fireplace…Jared sitting on a black couch…Johnny reading a thick book beside him…Mrs. Crabbs next door singing …thudding of my father's heart by my head…the rise and fall of his chest…the barking of a stray dog…the asking of question…what is the capital of Switzerland…the deep rumbling of my father's laugh… _

"Then, that's where it is," Will's voice snapped me out of my reverie, certain with victory. He straightened away from me, arching his back upwards again. His finger remained at the crudely drawn gulf on the map.

"What is?"

"Boinca. The Fountain of Youth."

"I don't get it," I screwed my face up as I straightened up too, hands leaving the table top, "How the hell do you know that?" The wind picked up speed again, whipping my hair across my face in a dash of bronze. Warmth slowly began to leave me. Behind me, Lestrade coughed again, coarse in the silence of the room. Bootstrap uttered not a word. Before me, Will returned my unwavering gaze; dark eyes reflected the candlelight all around us. The black smoke behind him seemed to be lesser then before.

"Many years ago," Will nodded at me, eyes glinting, "Someone showed where the island was fabled to be by the natives on the map. I just didn't know the region's name."

"There is no point in this, Will," Bootstrap finally spoke, voice a sudden splat of wet in the room, "It's just a legend." Yet again, no one spoke. Will peeled his eyes away from me to look up at his father, the fire in his brown pools turning a darker shade. His jaw tightened as he looked at his parent, a bubble of a muscle jumping away at his jaw line. His stray finger, pointing at the marked gulf, somehow found its way back to his side, closing in with the other fingers in a firm clench. It was as if a wave of defiance had rolled over the handsome Captain. Bootstrap matched his gaze with a look I couldn't decipher. I held my breath.

"This isn't going to bring Elizabeth back."

There we go again. That name. Elizabeth. Before I could ponder more on the subject, Will had strode forward, a violent anger suddenly washing across his face.

"Who said this has anything to do with her?!" he hissed as he neared his father, settling into a furious stare but two inches away from the gangly man. His fist was clenched at his side as he gritted his teeth, his cheeks turning a raging red. His eyes bloomed with a wild fire, raging across his dark pools without control. Something had happened to him, some anger with no explanation.

Something to do with this Elizabeth.

My heart chilled at the sight of him.

"Will…"

"I am the Captain of this ship," Will cut of his father with a sharp wave of his hand, eyes glinting with uncontrollable rage, "I decide our course." Something flickered in Bootstrap's eyes, something dark and haunting.

"Son, I only want what's best for you. This pursuit of yours-…"

"Enough!" Will slammed a fist into the desk beside him, splintering wood with a loud _crack_. My heart jolted at the sound, my entire body jumping in surprise as the wood broke under Will's fist, tearing the old map-Alaska got torn away. His breath was rapid, quick and shallow, his chest heaving in and out swiftly in a bid to control his rage. His entire face was red now; all trace of excitement and wonder for the Fountain of Youth having dissipated into a roar of fury. Blood oozed out from his bitten knuckles.

"Cap'tain…" Lestrade began but trailed off, having no idea what to say. Neither did I; what the hell was he angry for?!

"I am Captain," Will spoke again, ignoring Lestrade as if the large man hadn't even spoken, "and I say, we find the Fountain." There was no doubt in his voice, only certain conviction. He had spoken slowly now, muscles straining in agony as they struggled to keep his anger away from his words. The red in his face was getting worse, his high cheekbones glazed with a fiery flame as if stricken by fever. Despite the comfortable warmth and the cooling breeze, his entire face glowed with the sheen of sweat.

Without warning, he turned his furious eyes at me.

"You said Jack was heading there? To the Fountain? That he knew how to get there?"

"Yeah," I nodded my head at the raging man, pushing my eyebrows slightly together, "At least… I think so. He wanted to get his ship back first." At my words, the Captain seemed to calm down again, the red from his face slowly dissipating. The bush fire in his eyes began to timid down, raging back to his mellow shade. The muscles in his shoulders began to ease up; it was as if my voice had the power of relaxation or something. The cold chill shuddered against my skin.

"He must be fin'ing the ship with dim compass, Cap'tain," Lestrade suggested behind me, though I had no idea what he meant. Staying in his place, just two inches away from his silent father, Will nodded his head, anger slowly flowing away.

"Of course he must be. There is no other faster way to find that ship of his, especially with Barbossa in charge and all."

"Except by yer way, Cap'tain. Yer way's faster."

"Yes, Lestrade" Will nodded his head, turning his head away from his parent to gaze down at his shoes in thought, "My way is faster." All trace of anger had faded away, like the stroking a painting with a brush coated with thinner. His face was no longer red. The only thing left of that sudden mood swing was his sweaty face, glowing like a diamond in the candlelight. Barely any black smoke rolled up the chimney now.

"What the hell are you two babbling about?!"

Will looked up from the ground at my voice, staring at me with his dark eyes. His chest still heaved in and out quickly, still regaining from its sudden fit of anger. His hands were no longer clenched. Beside him, Bootstrap watched his son with emotionless, dead eyes; nothing about him stirred, not even his hair in the wind. He was a statue, a forlorn, resolute statue with cold, dead eyes. Once again, he gave me the creeps.

"It doesn't matter," Will seemed to have regained his composure, clearing his throat and staring directly at me, flame dying in his eyes, "Remember when I promised you that I would get you home, no matter what?"

"Yeah. You said it only just now."

"Well, Barbossa knows a little thing about Calypso. I bet if we asked politely-…"

"Barbossa?" I cut him off, eyes widening, "The same guy who stole Sparrow's ship?"

"Exactly," Will's lips widened into a faint smile as he stared at me, hand drawing up to wipe his sweaty brow. He paused for awhile in thought then resumed, still panting slightly.

"This is my plan, Joey. We find the _Black Pearl_, we find Barbossa. Then, we can question him, see if he knows anything about your predicament or about Calypso."

"What about the Fountain, sir?" Lestrade butt in, meeting my eye for a second before turning back to the Captain.

"I may have a plan," Will replied, looking briefly at the large man, "I'm not sure it would work, but its better then nothing."

"And I suppose Sparrow would be there?" I couldn't help but ask, drawing Will's now calmed eyes back towards me. For some reasons, I couldn't care less about the Fountain. Taking in a deep, delicious, breath, he nodded quickly.

"Either he is already with Barbossa, trying to get back his ship, or is on his way there. Or, he could be sinking to the bottom of the ocean as we speak. I highly doubt that though; Jack has a knack for returning from the dead."

"Well, either way, he's going to be at that ship? With Barbossa?"

"Yes, he will."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I clapped my hands together before me, turning from Will to Lestrade with a goofy grin splattered across my face. For some arcane reason, I suddenly didn't care about going home. The thought, the very idea that I could possibly meet Sparrow again sent me into a wave of excitement; I so wanted to harpoon him!! After everything he had put us through, after his stupid betrayal….

Yes, I will kill Sparrow!

I WILL KILL SPARROW!!

"Will…" Bootstrap's voice trailed for the first time in a while, his voice crude and rough in the echoing silence. Without a single word, Will pivoted on his toe to face his father again, features drawing back into a determined scowl. Lines appeared across his temple and cheeks, creasing the velvet bronze of his face. His lips drew into a thin line, eyes going hard and cold again. A chill crept back into the world.

"Will, don't do this," Bootstrap murmured in the wind, eyes gazing back at his son without emotion. Before him, Will's face contorted slightly, before hardening all over again, his delicate features crossing into a fierce frown. His dark brown curls wavered in the wind, billowing in a messy halo all over his face. A roll of sweat trailed down the side of his tanned face. Hands clenched.

"Tell Warrington and Tol'de to wake the crew. We head for the _Black Pearl_."

**That's it, folks! Sorry if the past two chapters have been draggy; I needed to explain some things.** **If anyone is wondering, I didn't make up the legend behind the Fountain of Youth. It is all true. Where ether the fountain exists of not is really up to you. Anyway, the next few chapters will have more on the legend of the Fountain of Youth and what it all has to do with Elizabeth. Expect more moments between Joey and Will, and perhaps another coupling along the way. New characters will make their marks soon and hold on your hats for the return of Captain Sparrow!!**

**Thanks, and please, please review! I really like to know if this story is worth continuing. Please also take the time to vote at my profile for who you think is the best actress to play Joey. THANKS!!**

**XOXO**

**P.S. Please review!**


	18. A Rather Gothic Ship

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**So…Chapter 18 is here!! In this chapter, I'll try and bring more humour into the story and not make it so moppy, as it were in the last two chapters! More humorous clashes between Jared and Joey coming up!!**

**Chapter 17**

**A rather Gothic ship**

"A rather gothic ship, wouldn't you say?"

Beside me, Jared shrugged in reply, "I suppose." In the afternoon light, his dark blonde hair was a blaze of glory, the cold sea wind whipping it flat across his scalp. Tanned fingers raked their way through them, parting the sea of glowing bronze like ships through waves. His icy blue eyes twinkled white.

"You suppose?!" I turned away from the sight before us to cock an irrated eyebrow at my brother, "Dude, its got black sails! You _can't_ get more Gothic then that!"

"Okay, maybe," Jared lifted a finger to prove his point, drawing his blue eyes away from the spectacle and towards me, "But think about it, Joe. We're on a ship full of _dead_ people. Now, _that_ is gothic!" He reached forward a little and banged the side of the ship with his knuckles, in a bid to reinstate his point. Wood groaned under his thudding, cracking and splintering like dried up bones. Except, of course, everything was wet here.

With a roll of my eyes, I pulled my arms back from the side of the ship and across my chest, pivoting on my toes to face my twin. The wind was especially harsh today, striking across my hardened face like a cold, merciless slap. The sun's lick did much to soften the blow though; it streamed across my skin like rivers of gold, soaking through my bones and embracing me in a warm hug. Despite the wind, my white sleeves were rolled up to my mid arms in puffy clouds.

"Well, okay," I pressed my lips together with narrow eyes as my brother smiled his irritating smile, "You've got a point. But look around you, Jared. It's not exactly the _Shining_ around here." With that, I waved a free arm towards the rest of the sun deck. From the helm to the stern, pirates swarmed like bees, bustling about in preparation. Sails were being pulled, wood boards being mopped, anchor being lowered. Shouts mired the fresh sea air, crushing away the moaning of the wind and the crashing of the waves. Floor boards trembled at the activity, dozens of foots trampling all over the moss-covered floor. Barrels rolled by, making a repetitive _squelch, squelch _as they merrily trampled over the seaweeds and algae. At a corner, a man squatted among the pillars of trampling legs, scrubbing the sea life off with a decaying brush.

"They're still dead," my brother rebutted, as if it made a good argument. He leaned a casual arm against the banisters, his elbow peeking over the edge of the ship. Above, a seagull cawed.

"They might as well not be!" I opened my eyes a little wider, shaking my head whilst retrieving my wayward hand back to my chest, "Look at them! Do they look like the undead to you?"

"Well…no."

"Exactly! I mean, if they were really, really the zombies of the underworld, they would be…you know, blistering with sores, gnawing on their own bones, squelching raw, human blood, zonking out with pupil less eyes, walking around with their arms straight out and going _Ahhhhh_…" Before I could even continue, a coarse yet familiar voice broke through our conversation, climbing above the yells and shouts of the others around us.

"I'm not sure where e'her to take that as a com'liment or an insult."

A large man stood less then a meter from us, parallel with Jared and me. He towered over everyone on deck, an ominous shadow of muscles shading red in the afternoon glare. Prickles of sweat glistened atop his shaven hair, the beads of black hair cropped up his scalp like silver tears against his tanned skin. Besides that, the giant seemed pretty cooled; his flannel white shirt hung loosely on his large biceps, the sleeves rolling neatly to his wide wrists. Giant, metal boots covered his feet, rusted buckles jingling at his ankles. Despite the cold wind, a bead of sweat rolled the large man's face, pale blue eyes peering out at us with twinkling humour. A wide, toothy grin splayed across the man's features.

"It was a compliment, Lestrade," I smiled at my new friend, turning away from my brother to look at the giant pirate, "Trust me. You don't want to be a zombie."

"You went as a zombie for Halloween three years in a row."

"Shut up, Jared."

Lestrade strode his way towards us, shoving past a buzzing pirate with a large hand. Beneath us, the floorboards vibrated at his coming, thundering under his massive feet like the tremors of an earthquake. Way, way above us, the white sails flapped slowly down the mast, the icy wind whipping the creamy parchment across the cerulean clear sky. It was as if the wind had taken a life on its own, refusing to let the pirates pull down the sails, to slow the ship down. Off to the side, Bootstraps' voice resounded, yelling to his crew in a raspy tone; I made it a point to ignore him.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping the others?" Jared questioned as Lestrade approached us, the toothy grin never leaving his face. Dimples the size of pennies pressed hard into his ruddy cheeks.

"Aye, Mister Wolfe," the beefy man nodded his giant head, stopping in front of us with arms on his hips, "But there ain't nothing for me to do right now. Mister Bootstrap's doing a damn fine job'in."

"I noticed," I sidelined from the man before me to gaze at the dark, yelling figure up at the helm, "He enjoys his job, doesn't he?"

"Ma'am?"

"Yelling around, barking orders. He seems to like the power."

Opposite me, Lestrade shrugged, pouting his lips slightly. A tear of sweat dangled at his jaw line. At the center of the deck, just behind Lestrade, the pirates wheeled away at the anchor, dozen dirty men pushing the giant oars attached to the large metal spindle. Large, rusted chains wheeled around the top of the object, disappearing into the hole below it as the pirates pushed and pushed. Somewhere below, deep down in the murky depths, the heavy black anchor was being pushed out of the ship, dropping through the green water and heading for earth. It wouldn't be long before we heard the familiar wince of metal dragging across sand.

"Nome, Miz Wolfe," Lestrade finally spoke after awhile, breathing out a sigh at us, "He's not really like dis."

"Who?"

"Mister Bootstrap. He's not like dis, most of de time. He doesn't yell dat much."

"Really?" I cocked eyebrow at the giant of a man, folding my arms even more tightly across my chest, "I would never have guessed."

"Nome, Miz Wolfe. He ain't bad. He juz gets like dis whenever him and de Captain argue." That shut me up. Drawing my gaze away from the large man before me, I turned towards the somber, yelling figure of Bootstrap. He stood aboard the helm, cold voice piercing over the chaos beneath him. His arms flapped around as he ordered the men, his black, slick hair flying in the harsh wind. In the afternoon's glare, he seemed like a pinnacle of pale, his black, damp clothes sticking to his skin like a second coat of paint. Cold, dead eyes glared at a nearby pirate, reproaching him for something I couldn't discern. Hands clenched at his side.

It seemed that the conversation at the Captain's office three nights ago was not forgotten. Even now, I could still hear the terse argument between father and son repeating itself in my head, pounding against the inside of my skull with a hammer. They had parted silently that night, Bootstrap following the orders of his son despite his disagreement. Yet, the tension was still there; silent glares, terse words, disinterested behaviour. It was as if the topic of the Fountain of Youth, or whatever they had been arguing about that night, had created a crack between them, separating them. Like a gulf between earth plates being shaken farther apart by tremors. For the first time yesterday evening, I saw the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ without his first in command, without his father.

It didn't seem right.

"So," Jared broke through my reverie, voice curt and impatient, "Tell me what we are doing again." I heaved out a sigh and turned back to my twin. Impatient, narrowed eyes stared back at me, the sun blanketing his blue eyes in a cold white. In the afternoon's glare, his cheeks was red, almost as red as Lestrade's.

"You know why," I rolled my eyes, letting my arms fall from my chest and down to my side. Before us, Lestrade moved to stand beside me, heavy feet thundering against the wooden planks. He stopped at the banister, just like us; without a word, he leaned over the wooden railing, light blue eyes drawing away from us and towards the sight out at sea. All around us, the pirates were beginning to look more and more like buzzing bees.

"Right," Jared was starting again, much to my annoyance, "I forgot. We're going to find Sparrow. So that you can kill him."

"Don't be draft," I replied with yet another roll of my eyes, sudden anger flashing through me, "Killing Sparrow is not the only reason we're looking for him." This was just Jared being stupid again. With another sigh, I pivoted on my toes and joined Lestrade beside me, leaning over the wooden banister and facing out to the sea. Ahead, our target drew nearer.

"Right. You want to torture him first."

"Look," I snapped my head around to glare at my brother, eyes glinting, "I've told you already. Sparrow might know something about Calypso."

"Aye," Lestrade nodded away beside me, sidelining away from the sight and towards Jared, "And Barbossa might know something too." He narrowed his eyes as the sun's glare hit him, blanketing his red face in a wash of gold. Behind us, the sail flew at half-mast, pulling across the wood in the cold wind. My hair followed suite, flying away from me in a cascade of bronze. Above at the helm, Bootstrap shouted at the pirates to slow the anchor down. Jared narrowed his eyes until they were but slits of white in his face.

"Of course. Calypso."

"Don't be so skeptical, Jared," I leaned an elbow on the banister as I turned halfway to gaze at my brother, a deep, weary sigh spilling over my lips. Jared was such a…._pain_. He had to ask questions for everything, had to argue and doubt everything. He was like a walking pinnacle of mistrust and doubt. Not even I, his sole surviving family, was free of his clearance level.

"I'm not skeptical, Joey," Jared grimaced, biting out the words savagely; "I'm realistic. I mean…do you see what we're doing?!"

"Finding a way home."

"No. We're following mad men, going after a mythical goddess, going to pirates for help, looking for some god-damned pool of immortality. We haven't even figured out what to do about Scarlett! I mean…don't you see it, Joey? THIS-IS-INSANE!" He said the last sentence ever more slowly, talking to me as if I was five. Blue eyes flashed at me with unreadable emotions, face set in a scowl. I wanted to reach forward and slap him.

"Insane?!" I drew away from Lestrade, turning around fully to face my brother, "You want to talk about insane?! Jared, we're stuck in the 17th century! We walked through a painting and found 300 years ago! I mean-…"

"18th century."

"Whatever. L-Look around you, J! We're on a mythical ship, surrounded my dead men- a ship, that only five days ago, was springing out of the water like some god-damned green stalk!! My dear Jared, if you don't mind me saying, I think we crossed the line of insanity long time ago!"

"Are you two arguing again?" a melodic, accented voice sang through the air, reaching above the chaos of the world around us. Without another word, Jared and I snapped our heads around, towards the sea of busy pirates.

Standing amidst the swarm of seamen, like a porcelain doll among raggy, old teddy bears, was Scarlett. Petite and delicate as usual, she looked tremendously out of place. Like me, she wore a skirted overall, puffy white sleeves rolling down her stick-like arms to brush her wrists. The white of her collar seemed to melt into the pallor of her soft skin. The overall looked feminine on her, the brown hugging her small curves and kissing the edges of her knees in decency. Dark pants covered her legs, drawing up her soft calves in tight black. Around her hips, a black belt circled, thinner then mine and free of any weapon. Borrowed boots finished the get-up.

But it was not her outfit that struck her out. It was her face, her beauty. Atop her head and around her shoulders, her flaming red hair shone white in the sunlight, tied back in a single braid. Strands of loose red framed her heart-shaped face, gently kissing her blushing cheekbones. Bright green eyes smiled at us, twinkling all shards of colour in the afternoon's glare. Beads of sweat dotted her pale forehead. Among the smelly, dirty-looking pirates that hurried behind her, Scarlett looked like royalty, amusing herself among the peasants. A delicate, fairy princess, perhaps, among the dirtiest of trolls and gnomes.

How Will can buy the story about Scarlett being only a servant girl was yet another mystery to me.

"NO," Jared immediately defended, folding his beefy arms across his wide chest, "We weren't arguing."

"Seemed like it to me."

With a satisfied smirk, I leaned back against Lestrade's form, head hitting the side of his shoulder. Good. Let Jared be distracted for a while.

"I don't argue, alright? Arguing is for children."

"Fine, fine. If you insist. You weren't arguing."

"Thank you."

"You guys are so weird, you know that?" I interrupted them, smirking away at the two of them. Behind me, Lestrade chuckled in reward, his deep throaty laugh vibrating through his body and into me. It was comforting, really. Double eye rolls cast in my direction. As Scarlett opened her mouth to retort at me, another voice cut her off, a wet, raspy voice.

"The Captain wants to see you up at the helm."

It was Bootstrap, standing at the foot of the stairs with a solemn glare. He was no longer shouting, thank God, but his face remained as black, his dark, dead eyes staring us down with all effort. Around him, the pirates walked about as far as they could from him, creating a perimeter of emptiness around the man. It was as if his mood had cast an invisible wall a meter thick around him. All our heads- one shaven, one red and two bronze-snapped towards him, startled by his voice. Where the hell had he come from?!

"See who?"

Without a word, Bootstrap ignored my brother's question and turned around, in a swivel of black. His boots crunched up the stairs, cracking and groaning beneath his weight. The pirates around us made no acknowledgment. For a moment or so, all four of us stared up at the retreating figure, a shadow of black limed against the bright sun. Hands were still clenched at his side.

"I think that means 'follow'," I said with a sigh as I pulled myself off Lestrade and strode forward, towards the stairs. Above, Bootstrap had finished his ascent, stopping for a second before continuing across the helm with heavy feet. Around him, the helm was mostly empty; a scrappy, old pirate maneuvered the ship, standing rigid over the tall wheel. Another few men scurried about, doing God-knows-what up there. High above, seagulls began to argue, piercing over the shouts and yells of the busy seamen.

Together, the four of us climbed the rickety stairs. Just like the rest of the ship, the stairs were covered in algae; seaweed lingered over the stair's banisters, moss carpeted the floor. It was as if the ship was some kind of ship wreck from the bottom of the sea, somehow having been pulled away from the murky depths and commissioned to work. Hell, maybe it had.

Captain Will Turner stood near the head of the stairs. His slender figure faced the dark green sea, facing the sight that waded out beyond our grasps. As usual, a black bandana topped his head, his dark brown hair framing his face in a busy swirl. It danced against his shoulders, whipping back wildly in the icy cold gale. He wore the same clothes as I had first saw him in; maroon, long-sleeved blouse that cut at his chest and tight black pants that ended in familiar boots. His silver rapier danced at his hips, glinting harshly in the afternoon's glare. At his chest, the gold medallion shone in a blaze of glory, licking the rays of sunlight as if it itself was on fire. In the striking sunlight, its dark illustrations were washed away in flaming gold. Gold too glinted at his face; Will's tanned fingers held a golden eyeglass to his eye. It stretched as long as a mid-arm, the dark, fitted glass at its spiraling, gold end reflecting the black sight at sea. Will's face was screwed up slightly behind the eyeglass.

God, he was sight for sore-eyes.

"Wha'cha looking at?" I voiced out as my foot left the last step, dropping down on the wooden landing with a loud _thud_. Behind me, Jared tripped his way on a step. At my words, the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ turned towards us, pulling away the glowing eyeglass from his face. Despite the icy breath of the sea, glistening droplets sweat bordered his face, the dark ringlets of his hair shining with wet.

This, of course, brings me to yet another query.

Do dead people even sweat?!

"Our target," Will answered with a weary smile as we all approached, his eyes reflecting gold in the sunlight. The rapier laughed in the wind. As if in explanation, he waved a solid hand at the spectacle out at sea.

Sitting about two hundred yards away from us, strong and sturdy in the slightly choppy sea, was a ship. A ship with black sails. It was much smaller then the _Flying Dutchman_, but a floating raft of black in comparison. But it was magnificent, all the same. Black coloured all of the ship, blanketing the entire body from stern to helm in an ominous shadow. The wood was of dark grey, the boards made out of dead fells and old oaks. Ropes strapped across the sides and down the mast were dark too, swirling pillars of horse's hair shaded moldy grey. Even the rope ladder, dangling over the side, seemed to blend into the dark wood. Up above, black sails rode into the clear day, a dark blanket as pitch black as night. They pulled back against the wind, cashing against the pearl blue sky in outstretched, black hands. Above the dancing black, flapping away in the wild wind, was a black flag crested with white; painted crudely on the black cloth was a white skull, a criss-cross of sharpened swords pillowing its knobby chin. Black, empty eye sockets glared down at us from up above.

"So, this is the _Black Pearl_," Jared voiced out as he strode past me, brushing against my shoulder without a second thought. My lumbering legs had brought to stand beside the Captain, flanking his left side. Lestrade trailed behind me, feet thundering against the wooden boards like aftershock tremors. Down below, by the mast, the pirates still yelled and cursed, fastening the sail and dropping the anchor. Seagulls still cawed.

"Yes," Will replied, turning a side gaze at Jared as the latter took the other side of him, drawing on the man's right flank, "This is she. Sparrow's old ship." Scarlett followed to Jared's side, drawing near to my brother with her jade green eyes drawn wide. Lestrade leaned over the banister beside me.

"Well," Jared's lips stretched out in a small smile as he spoke, tanned hands diving into his pant's pockets, "it's a good-looking ship. Can't blame the man for being so hard-up about it and all." From over the rushing waves, the black ship drew nearer, or perhaps it was we who were doing the moving. A white seagull perched itself atop the ship's crow, cawing out in its scratchy voice.

"Well, I can blame the asshole for a couple of things," I muttered beneath my breath, anger surging momentarily through me. It had been like this for the past five days; the moment someone mentioned Sparrow, white hot fury would flash through me, my emotions agitated and mad against everything the bastard had done. But just like every time before, all emotion dissipated away, like the foam of the sea in the wind.

For a second, I just gazed out at the black ship, ignoring the conversation that swirled around me. It was so unique, so different from every other ship I had seen in the last week and a half. Never before had I seen a ship with black sails.

Or had I?

Something at the back of my mind, something distant and foggy, called out of the darkness of my mind. An image, so vague, so unclear; it was almost as if it wasn't even there. Like a hand reaching through a pale mist, a picture flashed across my mind, chasing across the map of time and space with a whisper in its name.

_A black ship…black sails…roiling, turbulent sea… dark grey skies…howling wind…men crying out in pain and raw fear…_

"Let's go," Will's voice broke me out of my reverie, like a cold slap from a waking dream. A warm hand pushed against my back, urging me to walk. For a second, I stood still, having no idea what to do. Below our feet, the whole ship shuddered, the deep groan of metal meeting earth echoing out of the dark cold depths. The anchor had landed. At the large wheel, Bootstrap stood by the rigid old man, his wet voice piercing above the yell of the pirates in loud, direct commands. The thick sails flapped away in the icy wind.

"Go? Go where?"

"To the _Black Pearl_."

* * *

The moment I first laid eyes on the man, I knew instantly that I would like him.

Captain Hector Barbossa stood before the throng of his crew, legs far apart, and jagged teeth glinting. He was a man of older age; wiry, dark hair streamed out of his old battered hat, strands of grey turning glowing silver in the afternoon's glare. His beard too tell-taled his age, leeching up his wrinkled jaw line in a mess of twinkling brown and white. His hat was a peculiar one; it looked like a sundial, a giant slab of black knitting topped with dull blue ostrich plumes at the side. They stuck out in the wind, flapping about madly in the icy gale.

It was his fashion sense that truly drew my attention. For a man his age, it was really not all that bad- truth be told, he looked at least 10 years older then Sparrow, and more then my fingers can count for Will. Slicked along the older man's body was a long, black duster, the insides of the arm sleeves shredded with white. The coarse fabric cut all the way down to the start of his boots, whipping against his mid-calves as the wind wailed its freezing breath. Beneath the duster, he too wore a skirted overall, though much more elaborate then any I had ever seen this past week or so. It was embodied in orange and dark green, a peculiar fusion that seemed to match the sea captain. Multiple series of belts strapped all over him, their designs of elaborate silver swirling and creeping. At his chest, three silver buttons glinted in the harsh light, more fierce and blinding then anything else on him.

Perhaps the guy had real silver buttons.

Some pirate.

It was what was perched on his shoulder that drew my attention, and probably my companions as well. A little furry monkey sat on the current Captain of the _Black Pearl_'s shoulder, just beneath the ostrich feathers. It was a dirty-looking fellow, with a pink, unwashed face and knotty, grimy fur. The clothes it wore, too, were equally dirty; an adorable striped vest, puffy white sleeves and all. Its winding tail flicked away behind his master's head, his dark beady eyes spelling mischief as he watched the scene before him. Despite its lack of hygiene, I wanted to go over there and play with the adorable thing.

Once again, I forgot to pay attention.

"William Turner," Captain Barbossa greeted with a crooked grin as he stepped away from his crew, "Welcome to the _Black Pearl_." Behind those chapped lips, yellow, broken teeth glinted in the light. Without another word, the man stuck out his hand, gnarly fingernails sticking out of the flesh like pinchers. Dirt rimed the better half of the lot. As I swallowed back a grimace, Will took the man's offered hand and shook it firmly, grabbing the wrinkled paw with two tanned hands.

"Nice to see you too, Barbossa," he greeted in his usual modest voice, his English accent purring over his velvety smooth tone. I could not see his face for his back was to me, his face turned towards the welcoming party before us; his dark hair swopped in circles behind him, struggling to free from his bandana. His shoulders were set in a determined square.

Behind me, Jared cleared his throat loudly. I turned a head to look at him. He and Scarlett stood about half a meter behind me, limed against the harsh sunlight. Like me, their backs faced the black banisters, their eyes and attention trained fully on the scene before us. Except I wasn't paying attention now. In the washing shade of gold, Jared stood as he usually did, arms crossed, legs apart, eyes cautious-as if the people before us might just spring up and cut us down.

Then again, they might.

Beyond Jared's and Scarlett's solemn figures stood the _Flying Dutchman_, creamy sails dragging in the wind. It was less then 10 meters away from us, rocking steadily in the whipping, lashing waves. Up on the deck, undead pirates still scrambled about, moping, fixing and doing God-knows-what. Their curses and swears filled the crisp sea air like the cawing of seagulls. The whole world sounded like rushing waves.

Joining the _Flying Dutchman _and the _Black Pearl_-you probably have guessed our current location by now- were three planks of wood, flat and long. They were only a couple of centimeters thick, but they were strong; they had been our bridge to here, a strong, railing less bridge over churning, icy waters. Trust me, it felt like I had been walking the plank.

Will's words brought me back to the present, or so to speak.

"But its Captain now, sir. Unless you have forgotten."

"Ah, aye," the well-dressed Captain Barbossa chuckled a wet laugh and slammed a bony hand on Will's shoulder, rocking him back slightly, "How can I forget, lad? Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_….aye, yer had me wondering about me sins." The little monkey chattered at his shoulder. Pulling his hands back from Will, he turned his head to the side and spit a large wad to the ground, just at the feet of one of his pirates. The Chinese man affected wagered no reaction.

Arch in a semi-circle, covering the length of half the deck, stood Barbossa's pirates, silent and lounging. They were like the pirates I had remembered from Tortuga; smelly, rugged and unwashed. Mostly likely drunk too. Small hats sat stop many of their heads, leechy, unwashed hair dangling over their red shoulders in tangles and knots. Dirt grimed their features, sweat crystals and nose mucus framing their faces as pits of filth. Tanned backs leaned against walls and banisters, watching the arrival of their guests with genuine attention. Some looked terrified though; perhaps it was the whole undead thing Will had going on. Maybe it could work to some advantage.

"Trust me; I'm here on my own accord," Will's voice brought me out of my daydream again, making me draw my eyes towards his slender back. Before him, the fascinating character that was of Barbossa screwed up his face in confusion, brow crinkling and frown setting. To either side of him, his pirates were silent. Curses echoed behind us all. From the corner, I thought I saw a lithe cat slithering its way down the stairs.

"And why would that be?"

"Because I have two things to address to you today, sir," Will nodded his head slightly, hands drawing up to his hips, "Two very important things." Even at a time like this, Will was ever so polite. I could almost see the polite, decent smile radiating off him. Behind Barbossa, the pirates began to mumble among themselves, eyes going wide for some reason. Voices grunted and whisper. All around us, the wind began to pick up speed, pulling and dragging across us like claws shredding paper. The sun rays still licked though. Pivoting on my heel, I tip-toed up to Lestrade's ear, the giant bulk of a man silent beside me.

"What's going on?"

"The Captain of the Flying Dutch'an doesn't normally address people, Miz Wolfe. At least, the last one didn't. They…normally, them all sup 'posed to just want to kill ya."

"Oh…you mean because of the whole ferrying the dead and all stuff?"

"Aye, Miz Wolfe."

"And what exactly do yer want to talk to me about, eh, Turner?" Barbossa's voice cut through the soft mumble, hands too trailing to his hips. The little monkey on his shoulder started to dance and hoot. Before him, Will's shoulders squared a little before speaking again, voice coming out more firm and forceful then before.

"Firstly, Calypso."

At that word, silence hushed over all on board. The pirates stopped talking abruptly, turning back to the conversation with wide eyes. It was as if all of them had suddenly lost their gift of speech or something; nobody talked, moved or even breathed. It was like pressing the stop button on the remote control and staring at the screen helplessly. Everything just froze.

Including my breath.

All around us, the wind picked up speed again, charging away around us like a thunder of chariots racing across the waves. Hair flew, shirts whipped, bones chilled. Icy breaths beat down against my skin, pushing and pushing against me as if trying to break me down. Cold hands pressed against my bones. I swear I almost lifted off my feet. At the corner, a man wailed in distraught and ran off, jumping down the nearby flight of stairs and disappearing below our feet.

He never stopped wailing.

"What bout her?" Barbossa spoke again, ignoring the sudden departure of one of his pirates. As if by the tone of his voice, the wind kicked all the way down, dropping like a dead anchor on us. Hair flowed back into place, warmth slowly flooding back into the body.

My lungs breathed again.

"We need to find her," Will said simply, arms still on hips. A random hand raked through his busy curls. At Barbossa's side, a skinny, dirty-looking fellow suddenly dove to his knees, a bony hand sprawled over his right eye. Beads of sweat littered his shaggy face, crystals gleaming in his short beard. With a hand over an eye, he began to look about, scurrying on his knees like some kind of animal. His free hand pawed the black floorboards, scruffy moustache quivering as he whispered about in panic. It took me a moment to realize that the poor man was actually looking for something, something he had just lost.

Suddenly, he spotted what he was looking for and was reaching for it when Barbossa took a defiant step forward and crushed the object on the ground, grinding it with his heel. Glass crackled and cracked, specks of fine, clear dust, spitting into the air from beneath the booted heel. The low _crunch _sounded like the breaking of bone.

The skinny pirate moaned in dismay as his Captain removed his newly powdered boot, the wind slowly sweeping away the tiny crystals. The floor seemed to glint. With a tragic groan, the skinny man banged two clenched fist on the floor, pulling the hand away from his eye as he kneeled down on his thighs. A mournful sob escaped his lips. It was only then that I noticed something about the pirate; he had no right eye.

So, that means…

It couldn't be….

That thing now crushed….

Was that his _eye_?!?!

"I don't know where she is," Barbossa firmly replied as he sneered down at his pirate, "I honestly don't." It was as if he enjoyed his pirate's pain, as if he took the extra effort to give him suffering. Perhaps he did. At his booted feet, a fat, balding pirate bent down and quickly brought his friend back up, pulling with all his might. Another sob spilled from the one-eyed freak.

"It was she who brought you back to life," Will rebutted, closing in with the Captain. Hands remained at his hips, elbows sticking out firmly. Beside me, Lestrade coughed out softly.

"So what? Means I keep tab on her?"

"Look, finding Calypso is important to me…"

"She may be important lad… but I haven't seen that witch since she last broke free of that hideous body of hers. Since she made that little god-damned whirlpool. I haven't seen her since. I mean…aren't yer suppose to be her most trusted lap dog?"

"I do not know where she is."

"Well, neither do I. So, it's settled then. Calypso is nowhere to be found. End of story. Now, tell me lad, yer didn't come all the way to find me just to look for Calypso, no?"

Standing here, listening to the string of conversation, I was thoroughly confused; since when do people could come back to life….what hideous body…what god-damned whirlpool?! Beside and behind me, I wondered if the others too were having trouble figuring out what was happening. Before us, Will's shoulders were set in a determined crunch, hands biting into his maroon-donned hips. The wind flapped back his hair again.

"No," Will answered, chest rising by just a little. I could only imagine the look on his face. Before him, a small smile broke through Barbossa's skin, yellow teeth tearing through his wearied, sunned face. A bead of sweat rolled down the man's hooked nose.

"Then, what else do yer want?"

"It's about Jack."

"And…"

"He's got the map. The one that led to the end of the world."

"So? Let him have it! It's no good to me now."

"I afraid it is."

"And whys that?"

"Because," Will's voice rose a little, a sense of excitement peppering his smooth tone, "That map leads to something, something else besides the end of the world. Something that both you and he have been chasing since before I met you."

"And what's that, lad?"

Silence followed like a lullaby. Behind Barbossa, the pirates listened attentively, practically creeping forward with every word. For some reason, my heart thudded away at my chest, like the hammering of a giant gong inside me. My throat was rough and sore. All around us, the wind whispered and wailed, like the calling of banshees and ghost over the seas. The sun made me sweat still. Finally, with a single word, Will broke the silence with a bang of a hammer.

"Immortality."

* * *

Barbossa paced around us, his booted feet vibrating a perfect rectangle on the wooden floorboards. His head was bent down to the floor, his shaggy beard wavering with the rhythm as he walked and walked. His gnarly hands were hooked together behind his back, brown fingers absent-mindedly toying with each other. His feathery hat hid his hardened face.

Barbossa took a hell of a lot of time to think.

Without a word, I reached forward and swiped a juicy-looking chicken wing from a plate on the table, the top of the pile. Oily skin slipped beneath my fingers, leaving greasy, translucent marks all over my hands. Dark purple stained most of the pale meat, tinged red here and there in the light. Thick muscle ligaments hung out in strands.

It didn't smell like chicken.

Heck, I don't even think it _was_ chicken.

As Barbossa made another round behind me, I chomped into the meat, teeth first. Thick, squishy flesh choked back into my mouth without hesitation. I almost gagged. Sitting directly opposite me, Jared glared in disapproval.

The room that we were in was not much different from the mess hall back on the _Flying Dutchman_. Indeed, perhaps the only difference was the size and colour; this one was way smaller and darker. It stretched a good 5 meters, dark oak covering its entire length. Banisters, thick black banisters, held up the wooden roof above, holding the weight of the trudging pirates as they lumbered away on the sun deck. Footsteps echoed down at us, like the pitter-pattering of large rats. Dark, ornate lanterns swayed at the top of the pillars, held up by dark green metal holders the size of claws. They were unlit for now, the oil in them sloshing away as the ship rocked in the wind.

Sitting in the middle of the fairly-sized room was a long, rectangle table, stretching from the wooden door to the thinly veiled window. It was made of strong pine, a light brown clothed over in a thin fabric of dirty red. Despite the fact that it was only about 4 in the afternoon, bowls and bowls of food were splayed all over the dirty red; grilled fish, steamed red lobsters and an array of different types of meat I couldn't really identify. It all smelled heavenly though, as if they had all been cooked for the Gods. Three dark mantels of candles separated these plates, alit and alive with little, bright flames. A plate of apples was the center piece. Around the wooden table, large ornate chairs sat in equal spaces, their hard backs reaching high and their seats cushioned in dirty champagne. Rubies the size of pennies crystalled all of the backs, re-amplifying the fact that everything in here was probably stolen.

But enough of details.

Back to the conversation.

"Yer ain't lying to me, now are yer, Turner?" Barbossa spoke as he walked on, his feet making heavy _bangs _at every step. His eyes still studied his marching boots. At the chair nearest to the head of the table, Will watched without a word. He lounged back in the elaborate throne as he usually did, leaning both arms heavily on the arm rest. If there wasn't food on the table, he would have probably rested his legs on it. Beside him, Jared continued to glare at me.

Barbossa kept on walking, chin buried deep in his chest. At his chair, Will watched the older man with slight aloofness, his eyes trailing the man whenever he made the passage in his eye scope. Beyond that, Will simply ignored the man, gazing down at his food until the captain returned back into view. The little candlelight made his eyes glow gold. Beside Jared and diagonally left to me, Scarlett shrunk back into her high-backed chair, looking like a frail mouse cornered by a cat.

"So," Barbossa finally stopped walking, halting at his own tall chair at the head of the table, "let me get this straight. Yer think dem Jack's knows a way to find the Fountain of Youth, and dat he plans on getting to it." His knobby, bony hands clutched the top of his chair as he gazed down at Will, lifting his head to reveal more of his face. Despite the stale air in here, the blue feathers on his hat still wavered. Beside me, Lestrade coughed again; I was beginning to think that he's coming down with something.

"Yes," Will answered simply as he drew himself back up, straightening his back, "That's exactly what I think." He leaned forward and fingered his wooden goblet, his clean fingertips running over the cup's figure in thought. Inside the brown cup, deep red liquid sloshed away, following the rocking of the ship on the sea. We all too had these cups of rum, placed beside our dinner plates. Usual commodities for guests. Mine would have been emptied long ago if it had not been for Jared's I-dare-you-not-to glare.

It can be quite irritating at times.

"And he knows dis because of dat map, no?" Barbossa said with a growing frustration, waving a hand around as he spoke, "Because of the same god-damned map that we used to save his butt from them locker….de one dat he stole?" At his last sentence, he waved a gnarled hand even more wildly, eyes glinting with a cold flame. Spits of saliva flew out of his mouth as he talked, falling in fat droplets of rain all over the table. Suddenly sick of my meat, I dropped the chewed up bone to my dinner plate.

"Well, yes," Will answered with a small shrug, nodding his head slightly. He had begun to lean in his seat again, his back slouching slowly. His fingertips still grazed his cup's edges. Up above our heads, something banged against the ceiling-the floor of the deck-, followed by a loud yell of curses. The candle-light chandelier wobbled uneasily.

"Well, I don't believe it," Barbossa said with squinted eyes, his green feathers flapping, "I looked at dat map, Turner. Went through it, back and front. I couldn't have possibly have missed so-…"

"It doesn't matter where ether you missed it, or I missed it," Will's voice had become slightly louder, as if suddenly irritated with something, "What matters is that Jack saw it. He knows it." His dark eyes glared up at the Captain with a sudden fierceness, an emotion that bloomed out of nowhere. His grazing fingertips closed into a hard clench around the base of his cup.

No one in the room spoke.

Standing behind his tall chair, Barbossa raised an eyebrow at Will's sudden reaction, staring at him curiously. It was almost as if he hadn't seen something like this from the young Captain before. This, of course, genuinely surprised me. Just yesterday, Lestrade had been telling me about how Barbossa and Will knew each other, how they had shared some adventures along with Sparrow. "Not mighty close, but decent enough," was what Lestrade had said about them, describing the relationship between the two men. It had been all the more evident back above deck, just now.

So, of course, Barbossa's reaction to Will's sudden change in emotion surprised me. If he truly knew Will, then he surely knew that the man was prone to having mood swings. Honestly, Will reminded me of a PMS-ing girl, an image that had been formed in the few days I had known him. With bad cramps.

Or…

Lestrade had said Will and Barbossa hadn't met in over a year.

Perhaps this was a _new_ development with Will, a _new_ character trait of the man.

If so….then, what had caused it?

…..

I'm thinking too much again.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to break the silence.

"Which is why he is headed here now."

Almost immediately, all eyes in the room turned to me, the different shades of colour staring down at me with a sudden force. From behind his chair, Barbossa looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.

"What?" he screwed up his face at me, which by the way was not very encouraging. Beneath his black, feathered hat, a pair of yellow eyes glared back at me, glinting a strange flame in the wavering firelight. It kind of reminded me of an evil cat. A really, really evil cat.

"Sparrow," I gulped back a huge mouthful of saliva as all eyes kept to me, "I said he's headed here now. I have no idea how he's going to find you but….all he wants is his ship back. With his ship, he intends on going after the Fountain." It was not a comfortable feeling, having all attention on you. It all kind of made me want to hid under the table or cover my face with my hands. Anything to stop all the attention. From opposite the table, Will watched me with silent eyes, his sudden irritation of before having simmered away like a dying fire. His hand left his cup. For a second, over the short breadth of the table, our eyes met.

It took a very loud, irritated voice to pull my gaze away.

"WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YER?!" Barbossa snapped from his post behind his chair, glaring down at me with all his might. As he yelled, the feathers on his hat wavered even more, flapping back and forth. His wrinkled, loose cheeks turned a flaming red. Quickly drawing on the sweetest smile I could think of, I leaned over the table and stuck a hand out, at the older man's direction.

"The name's Joey Wolfe," I said, all 4 fingers and thumb pointing at the man, "Pleasure to meet you, Captain. And don't worry about it- I totally understand. If someone screwed me over, just like Sparrow did to you, I'll be pissed too." I retained my smile as I kept up my hand, waiting for the man to take it and shake it in greeting. He didn't. Instead, he just stared at me like I had three heads or something.

A lot of people seem to do that to me these days.

From across the table, Jared sighed.

"Let me guess, Turner," Barbossa finally turned his incredulous stare away from me and back towards Will, eyes still glinting, "She's soft up in the head, but she's real good without dem clothes, no?" At this, Will's cheeks bloomed a bright red, as if a rash had crept all over his face. His jaw dropped. His dark brown eyes flickered to me for a second, causing the red in his cheeks to become a flaming torch. Then, they turned back towards Barbossa, lips stammering out words too broken up to understand. I interrupted him before he could say anymore.

"No!" I glared at the standing figure at the head of the table, drawing back my hand with a snap and lounging back into my chair, "I'm not soft in the head. Neither am I sleeping with Will, alright? I'm just a girl who got caught in a little situation with that Calypso." Those words drew back Barbossa's attention. His eyes widened with genuine curiosity, his mouth opening up to question more. Luckily, I shut him off with a wave, shaking my head.

"That's not important, though-…." Before I could continue, Jared's voice hissed over the table.

"Of course it's important!"

All I did was cast him an eye roll. Luckily, Scarlett continued it off for me, speaking up for the first time on this ship.

"I think what Joanna is trying to say," her sweet voice was refreshing to one's ears, her dove-like eyes gazing at the older Captain with attention, "is that what's important now is what you are going to do about Jack Sparrow. Other details are not so immediate now." Beside her, Jared snapped his head at her in irritation, blue eyes flashing hot frustration. For some reason, he was upset Scarlett was taking my side for once, as if she was his trusted ally or something.

My brother had issues.

At the head of the table, Barbossa's creased-up brow began to unfold on itself, eyes returning to normal size. A wrinkled hand patted down his clothes in check as he opened his dry mouth to speak, but yet again, I cut him off.

"JO-EY!" I emphasized at Scarlett from across the table, glaring at her with displeasure as I rounded my words purposely, "Not Joanna, but JO-EY!"

"Oh, stop being ridiculous! Your name's Joanna and nothing you say or do-…"

"It's Joey, woman! JOEY! If you call me Joanna one more fucking time, I swear upon God, I'll…"

"Enough," Will's voice cut through our short-lived argument like a hammer crashing through wood, "That's enough." Our heads snapped back to see him watching calmly from his high chair, slight displeasure flashing across his eyes. He leaned towards his left elbow resting on the arm rest, his fingers straying through his hair. A soft frown crept on his lips, the red, flaming colour of before having dissipated away like it hadn't even been there. His eyes were still gold.

Without another word at us, he turned back towards Barbossa. The latter still stood behind the chair, a small, amused smile cracking across his sunned face. Something truly amused him. Beside me, Lestrade ran a hand over his bald scalp.

"Look," Will turned his frown at the older Captain, heaving out the words in a heavy sigh, "I have a plan." He was obviously ignoring us now but I don't blame him. We _were_ noisy. At the head of the table, Barbossa turned his attention away from us and towards Will, eyes narrowing slightly.

"What yer mean, lad?"

"Use the ship," Will said simply, waving a lazy hand upwards to indicate the very vessel that was the _Black Pearl_, "Use it as a bargaining chip."

"Perhaps all dem harboring of souls has made yer lose yer sanity, Turner," Barbossa narrowed his eyes until they were but slits of yellow in his cracking face, "Bargaining me _Black Pearl_…are yer out of yer mind?!" Releasing a hand from the top of the chair, he lifted it up and banged it down again, rocking the large throne in trembles. Beneath our feet, the sea suddenly lurched, perhaps caught up in a swell. It felt as if my stomach had decided to take a vacation, lopping over and doing a cartwheel. The floor seemed to tilt below us.

"Look," Will deepened his frown at the man, eyes slowly winding into a glare, "Sparrow is NOT going to give us the location to the Fountain of Youth unless you give him something in return. Something that he truly wants."

"He truly wants this ship," I realized, placing a quick hand over my churning stomach. Beneath my fingers, it felt like there truly wasn't any organ there. Like a hole had been carved out in my stomach or something.

Maybe I shouldn't have eaten that chicken.

"Right," Will nodded in my direction and continued at Barbossa, "Think about it. Sparrow wants his ship. You want the Fountain of Youth. Each of you has what the other wants." Another swell hit us and the floor tilted beneath us again, the floorboards rumbling beneath our very feet. It was as if the whole world had been pushed to the side; plates started sliding down the clothed table, people leaning into one another. Everything seemed to fall back towards the window, as if the stern of the boat was being pulled upwards or the helm, down below. A giant shift of gravity that no one could really control.

I really, really wanted to hurl.

Then, with the snap of fingers, everything rolled back to normal. Plates slide back into place, people shifting up right again. The floor beneath our feet groaned, leveling out again. Lanterns swung back. My stomach groaned.

"Quite a wind," Lestrade mumbled beside me as he readjusted himself on the chair, turning a small smile at me. In this dark room, his face was not as red as it usually was. In fact, it seemed a little pale. Beneath the tips of my fingers, my stomach roiled and churned away, like the whipping the sea was getting from the harsh wind outside. Hot bile climbed up my throat.

I really shouldn't have eaten that chicken.

"Anyway," Barbossa patted down his hat as he spoke again, his strong sea legs having not moved during the sudden swell, "Aye, it's true I want dem Fountain. But not at the cost of the _Pearl_. Aye, no way!" He shook his head as he spoke, his wiry hair shaking along with it. Above our heads, the pirates' footsteps quickened.

"So a ship is more important then immortality?" Jared voiced out with an arched eyebrow, eyes gazing at the man with a slightly screwed face. His hands busied themselves with rearranging the disturbed grapes. At the head of the table, Barbossa's frown deepened.

"Yer don't get it, lad. Dis ship, de _Black Pearl_, is de most…."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," I gasped in between breaths, holding down my stomach with a hand, "It's the sea itself." As Barbossa turned a curios eye at me, a sickening feeling hit my gut, like I had been punched or something. Everything roiled away beneath my skin. With a soft groan, I leaned my head down against the wooden table, not far from my discarded bone on the plate. My hands clenched in on themselves. From behind, Lestrade began patting my back, asking if I was alright. Jared voiced the same question across the table.

"I ain't doing it, Turner," Barbossa spoke again, clearly ignoring me as if I wasn't even there; "I ain't giving up me _Pearl_. No way. Not even if Jack finds me de Fountain…what's the point of immortality when yer don't have a ship?" From across the table, I felt Will's eyes on me. My stomach rolled all over again.

"What if I can offer you something more then the _Pearl_?" Will's voice echoed away, the strain of his eyes still bleeding through me. I wanted to jump up and look into those eyes, to feel that wonderful warmth whenever our eyes met. I wanted to look at him again. But my stomach wouldn't allow it. Lestrade's meaty paw ran up and down my back, his voice a soothing lullaby in my world. For a while, Barbossa didn't answer, his voice hanging in the thick air. Jared kept asking if I was okay.

"I'm listening."

"You can have my ship. You can have the _Flying Dutchman_."

Silence.

"WHAT?!" everyone in the room chorused at the same time, eyes turning to the young captain in unbelievable shock. Even I raised my head from the table, ignoring my tumbling stomach and looking up at the handsome man with wide, disbelieving eyes. Did he just say…?

"That's exactly what I said," Will answered calmly, slowly sinking into a deeper lounge, "You can have my ship." He leaned casually back into his chair, a cool, disinterested look splaying across his fine features. An arm and elbow rested heavily on the arm rests, legs stretched out until they were kicking mine. His lose fingers played with his curls, idle, bored. Eyes wandered lazily.

For a second, everyone was silent, all eyes looking at the captain in disbelief. I had never seen him this….disinterested. In fact, it was almost like he was putting on an act of some sort. His little moustache quivered slightly at his lip. My insides groaned out again. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Barbossa spoke up, looking down at Will with narrow eyes.

"What are yer saying, Turner?"

"What?" Will looked up at the man with slight humour, his thin lips stretching out into a lazy smile, "Did you think I merely told you this information out of the kindness of my heart?" The man seated diagonally opposite me let out a scoff, cold humour dancing in his paling eyes. His head sank back against the chair, the ruby glinting on fire above his bandana. My stomach threatened to unplug.

"I'm not the same naïve fool you tried to kill, Barbossa."

"Spit it out, Turner."

"Look," Will heaved the word out with a sigh, closing his eyes momentarily as his head cocked upwards towards the ceiling, "The Fountain of Youth has another purpose, another purpose besides granting immortality." Hopelessly, I fell my head back down to the table, taking another sickening punch to the gut. Lestrade continued rubbing my back as bile burned my throat like acid. Hot tears stung my eyes.

"What purpose?" Scarlett posed this question. I had, of course, explained to both Scarlett and Jared about the Fountain the moment I had returned from Will's cabin that night. Thus, they knew just as much as anyone else on board…well, in this room. Heaving a deep sigh, Will's voice breathed out slowly.

"It is fabled that the Fountain of Youth can do the opposite of its famous legacy. To….To those who are already immortal, it can take it away. It can give back mortality to this cursed few, re-doing all that had been done. According to legend, it can make an immortal man mortal again."

For a second or so, no one spoke. Silence hung over all like a thick cloud of hot air, pressing down on our lungs, our throats. The ship rocked away beneath our feet. Despite the surging beneath my shirt, I pried my head from the table, my neck straining to lift my eyes back to Will. Tears clouded my vision.

"What are you saying?"

For the first time, Will ignored me. Not even bothering to look at me, he turned back to Barbossa with silent, dead eyes.

"This is what we'll do. The moment Jack-…"

That was it. I couldn't take it any longer. Without a second thought, I turned off to the side and wracked out the entire chicken leg in a sludgy, hot green mess.

**TA-DA!!!**

That's it for now!! This chapter is a little boring but trust me; the next chapter is going to be very, _**very**_** interesting. I can't wait to write it!! Until then, please vote on my profile and leave your reviews on the story! Please comment on how I can improve on it! Thanks for now!**

XOXO


	19. The Sirens

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**Please enjoy this chapter as much as I did and please leave any comments!! Thanks!!**

**Chapter 18**

**The Sirens**

I really shouldn't have eaten that chicken.

I sat back in my bed, the stains of hot bile still creeping all over my mouth. It was a sickening feeling, really. Despite my numerous gurgles of seawater, the bitter, dry taste of gastric juices still stung my tongue like an insect bite, raw and utterly disgusting in my mouth. Beneath my skin, my throat still burned wet hot.

I really, _really_ don't think that was chicken.

All around me, the world was a canvas of black and blue, sleeks of silver peeking here and there. Everything looked like a misshapen monster; across the room, the single table looked like a three-legged beast, a single, unlit eye of a candle swaying gently along with the waves. The dusty curtains swayed too, its hems drawn far back to the side to reveal the streaming moonlight. Silver splayed out opposite the drawn-open window, lighting up the entire length of the wall in a blinding, shivering white. Whispers of clouds cast meek shadows of grey and blue all over the pale. The wind whispered its regret and solace.

It was a beautiful night.

As I leaned back against my soft pillows, enjoying the serenity of the moment, thoughts slowly climbed their way into me. The events of today….what lies ahead…home…Will…everything just came flowing down into me like a soft kiss of remembrance planted at the side of my head. It wasn't sudden or shocking at all. It just swam smoothly through me, like a lonely ship wading its way through a thick bank of icy white fog. Memories and thoughts slowly spelled their selves out.

My chest heaved.

There was so much to think of.

My little demonstration about the fragility of my stomach had ended the talks with Barbossa for the day, throwing most in the room into a panic. Barbossa had spent a good five minutes yelling his way at me for messing his floor while Jared had run his long strides towards me, holding me and rubbing my back the moment he reached me. Truth be told, he had never been like this back home. Never this…._nice_.

As my stomach churned and wobbled, Will and Lestrade had helped me back on board the_ Flying Dutchman_, the latter practically carrying me over the planks that connected the two ships together. It wasn't as if I couldn't walk-it was just Lestrade's way. I had been ordered to bed instantly, forced to lie and rest as events continued way above me; the footsteps pounding above my head made me want to jump out of bed and run up to join the crew. But it had been Will's orders. According to him, my sudden regurgitation of the chicken must have been caused by the sudden swell and the nausea it could have brought upon. Rest was the only way to relinquish it.

I still blame the chicken.

It didn't matter anyway. The Captain's orders were undisputable. Despite all my protests, I spent the rest of the sobering evening down in my room, snuggling in my pillows as I talked my way with Jared and Scarlett, arguing over nonsensical things such as Scarlett's drop-off point. Rather draft, if you ask me. Lucas brought down dinner but even though I was pretty hung-

_Joey_.

I snapped my eyes open in a sharp breath, all my nerves clicking to full attention. It was as if a switch had been flipped on inside me. Instantly, my eyes strayed towards Jared, towards the bed that sat at the opposite end of the room. Limned in the silver moonlight, a dark figure slept on its tummy, a low snore reverberating against the white-washed wooden walls. The blue blanket was capped over its heaving form. Without much thought, a frown slowly formed on my face.

"Jared?"

_Joey_.

_It's a woman's voice_, I realized as I snapped upright in the bed, my back arching a razor-sharp at the sudden revelation. At the window, the wind howled its way in, gliding over my skin like cool kisses. My copper hair pulled back slightly. My breath froze in my hot throat. With a sudden snap of my head, I hissed out in a low breath.

"Who's there?!"

There was no one. In the empty darkness of the room, the only living occupants was Jared and I, our breaths rising and falling at different paces; he's was slow and calm while mine was becoming more and more rapid. Little pokes of goose bumps blossomed all over my cooled skin, like the gliding hands of mist. Paralysis was seizing me all over again.

_Come to us, Joey._

Ok. That was it. That was absolutely it. The whole ghost ship, crew-of-the-undead thing was pretty okay for me already. In fact, it all seemed pretty cool-I mean, how many teens back home had ever seen a ghost ship before? So, you see, it was all pretty well-and-dingy to me. However, if whatever was happening now is any sense of real, if there was an actual _ghost_ on this god-damned thing-

_Come._

Without another thought, I sprang to my feet, letting the soft blanket fall to my bare toes in a cascade of blue. This wasn't happening. No way. It couldn't be. By the window, the curtains had begun to shiver, trembling gently in the mosaic of black and blue; it was as if a hand had swept forward and pulled at them gently. The wind whispered in voices and songs, tendrils of music flowing into the room like a shadowy dream-for a moment, it was almost as if I could see the wind itself. Strands of bronze hair played against my cheeks.

_Come, Joey. Come._

_It has to Scarlett_, I decided despite the bubbling terror, shaking off all fear with an attempted grin. After all, who else could it be? Besides my magnificent self, Scarlett was the only other woman on board the _Flying Dutchman_, the only other person who could speak in such a high and sweet voice. The strange voice sounded like her anyway; a sweet tone with a musical tinge, like a splash of cold lemonade on a boiling day or the droplets of cinnamon atop a cheesecake.

You know….

Perfect.

_Joey._

That was it. If Scarlett thinks that she can suddenly grow a sense a humour at the wee hours of the morning, she's got another thing coming.

Without much thought yet again, I padded my way across the wooden floor, gingerly stepping over my abandoned blanket in a renewed determination. If I was to accomplish anything tonight, it shall be cutting all of Redhead's pretty hair off. Beneath my bare feet, the floor was cold as ice, its sleek surface crusted in the usual thin layer of slime. Rusted nails poked at my skin, scratching against my rough soles. As I walked across the room, as softly as I could, the dark, ominous figure of my shadow stretched out against the pale wall, cutting through the streaming silver light at each step. Instead of on the wall, a patch of pale light fell upon me as I moved, enlightening my every feature; my tanned skin seem paler in the moonlight, my bronze hair, silver, and my white ankle-length nightgown became but a glowing blanket of mist. Truthfully, if Jared had decided to awake just then, he would have thought me a ghost.

Talk about fitting into the mood.

With a last look at my sleeping brother, I slipped out of the room, pushing open the wooden door as softly and slowly as possible. Metal hinges whimpered pityingly as I floated out into the corridor, a white shadow slipping through the crack in a whisper of steps. Rusted ends whined out again as the door proceeded to close gently after me, echoing a soft _creak_. The tail of my loose gown barely made it out in time.

The world beyond my room looked no different in the dark; it was a gloomy artwork, hands having painted it in black, blue and silver. Spreading out directly in front of me was a dark and cavernous courtyard, its corners and edges smudged away as if by charcoal. Gleaming black-green pillars stacked across the room in uniform, holding up the firm sun deck above it. At the top of their heads hung unlit lanterns; these undead had a thing for the dark. At the centre of the small courtyard, in the middle of the darkened room, stood a short lay of steps, each wooden block leading a slimy way up to the deck. A gaping hole opened at its end, revealing a twinkling sky and a faded moonlight. Wind rushed through its open mouth.

It was to the right that I paid my attention to though. Stretching out at an immaculate length was a dark, unlit corridor, the green walls on each side harbouring solemn doors. It was like staring down the throat of a monster, imaginary jagged teeth deciding to pop out from the roof. Everything was all so dark; the only light was a single, wavering candle that hung near the head of my room's door, its oil rocking away with the rhythm of the ship. Blots of hot fuel dotted the green-tinged floor.

Scarlett's designated room was just next to ours. If I was to reach out and pull the door open with a sudden jolt, I probably just find her leaning out of the window towards our room's side, a hideous grin of evil-

_Oh, Joanna._

The voice was laughing now, a sweet, innocent laugh that was all too familiar. It was like the playing of a lyre, a melodic sound that swirled around me in flowing tendrils of warmth and life. A beautiful giggle, like the charms of Christmas bells or the quick trilling of a silver flute .The wind sang into my ear, bidding me to follow.

The voice hadn't come from Scarlett's room.

It was the wind.

As my brain numbed over at the sudden, disturbing revelation, my legs began to move, my muscles acting on their own without me even thinking a single thought. Knees lifted and bare soles met wood as my body moved itself forward, out of the shallow corridor and into the spacious courtyard with just a few steps. I hadn't even thought of moving. Heck, I hadn't even thought at all! All that had been processed in my mind for those few seconds across the space were just some words; _Ghosts on a ghost ship? Can't say I didn't see that coming._

It seemed as if I was floating helplessly on the wind, my body flowing smoothly forward in quick, light steps. Out of the darkness, I moved softly, my body working on its own as it slowly pulled me up the ginger stairs. It felt as if I didn't weigh a thing, as if by impulse, the wind had decided to pick me up and carry me away in its arms. For a few moments, it felt just like that; I closed my eyes with a sigh as gentle arms carried me up the slimy steps, holding me as I floated on the soft, streaming wind.

Hands ran their silky fingers through my hair, gliding across the very kisses of nerves as my body twirled and danced in the beautiful darkness. It was as if I was in dream, the daunting hand of sleep washing over me a surreal and enchanting peace I never felt awake. Whispers and giggles of life whispered into my very being, my arms throwing back to surrender completely to the wonder-

The next thing I knew I was standing at the edge of the ship's deck, staring down into the whispery dark waters. I didn't feel anything. I couldn't feel anything. All around me, the wind moaned and whined, twirling and swirling around my newly awaken figure like the tongues of a roaring flame. My bronze hair did the same, its silver-licked strands flowing past my shoulders and leaving them bare. The tail of my gown followed suit as well, the whispery wind pulling it against my shins and holding it back, creating a stream of glowing pale behind me. My hands were numb at my side.

Something was wrong.

Extremely wrong.

The world around me was a dream, a foggy dream of a bright full moon and rushing dark waves. Darkness stretched out beyond me, its binding hands molesting the corners of my eyes. My nerves made no reaction, my entire body freezing in upon itself as my mind waded through the thick bank of icy fog. Words had no meaning, images had no purpose; all I could see and feel were the colours of the wind, the sweet laughter bidding me forward in pure and virtuous innocence.

It was then, in this state of delusion, that I saw them.

Peeking out of the dark waters, their laughter sweet and merry above the waves, were three beautiful faces. Young, laughing, beautiful faces. In the bright silver light, they were all in evidently female; green-black water rushed over their high cheekbones, glazing across their silvery skin. Long, beautiful hair swept above the tumbling black waves, tendrils of silver spreading across the dark like fingers of mist. Their faces were young and merry, their pure red lips stretching across their pale skin in good-natured laughs. Bright white teeth glinted in the pale, like diamonds on their fair faces.

They were merry girls, laughing away as they played about in the water, diving in and out of the dark waves as if in a cat-and-mouse game with each other. Their legs were long and pale, strips of bare silver against the rushing black as they kicked and played with the water. The rest of their bodies were bare too, the churning waves hiding their pale features beneath its murky depths. It did not make them any less fair though; their laughter was as sweet as their faces, their facial bones sharp and define. Long, dark eyelashes curled away from their deep eyes; three pairs of identical icy blue eyes laughed up at me, pale hands reaching out of the rumbling wet to wave at me, calling me. Their voices were like lullabies of sleep:

_Come, sister. Come to us._

_Fear not the dark of the sea._

_May the wind take you, away, away._

_For dark your future be._

I knew that song. I remembered it. Despite my current state of numbness, of complete lack of emotion, I remembered that song well. Somewhere, in the pure depths of my invaded mind, the memory of the night on _Betty_, of the singing of the wind as I slept on the hammock, pierced through the fog around my eyes. It rose out of the ocean of my mind like how an anchor would rise from the sea-slow and steady, yet completely prominent.

It was the same song, same voices I heard that night. The same tune and powerful, mesmerizing voices I heard the moment before I had been kicked off that damn ship. There was no mistaking it; it was those angel voices I had taken for as dreams, those passionate, sweet voices that held my heart that night and waded their way into my sleeping dreams.

Only they were never dreams.

I rose a feet away from the wood and the laughter below increased, the three beautiful maidens waving harder with more joyous smiles. They swirled about in the waves like mermaids, legs flicking, silver-tainted hair streaming. Bright eyes grinned up at me, biding me to join them, to play with them. Their voices soared above the swishing waves as they laughed and sang on, repeating the song over and over again. Pale, delicate hands waved me down with laughs.

Without another thought, I brought my foot down and let myself go, releasing myself to the bid of melodious wind and the dark ocean below.

* * *

My eyes felt as if they had been sewn shut.

All around me, the world was warm and soft. Gentle, fur-coated blankets enveloped me, its dark outer skin climbing its way up my body. My fingers were knotted in its loose hair, its rough strands coarse yet comforting in my hands. Beneath my skin, the cloth was warm and soft, the hard mattresses beneath it like a comfortable rock for a lizard to bake on; my back stretched out in laziness. Up above, the ceiling was a mosaic of dark wood and fiery light, shadows of a near fire toasting itself away against it.

"Where am I?" I crocked softly as I began to half-pull myself up, pressing down on the bed with my open palms for support. My entire body moaned in protest, as if I had just woken up from a 100-year sleep. My skin felt raw and red, my eyes heavy with painful tears. A moan escaped from my lips before I could stop myself.

"There, there," A voice broke through the fog of pain as the moan ended in a soft wince, my head spinning off its axis, "You shouldn't sit up yet." It was a soothing voice, familiar in its every right, but at that moment, I truly didn't care. What the fuck had happened to me?! As I sat there, moaning in raw pain and sketchy dizziness, my numb mind travelled back to the last thing I could remember; had it not been only moments ago that I had been jumping into the water, towards the playful maidens who invited me to join them in their song? Had I not only given myself to the safety of the wind?

WHAT THE FUCK HAD HAPPENED?!

"Where am I?" I crocked again as I sank my trembling head into my sticky palms. My eyes felt as if they were bleeding, streams of tears gathering before them and clouding my visions. Heat from a nearby fire somehow seemed to sing my skin, stinging my arms and legs with a fiery passion. It was all so unbearable. As my sweaty palms glided against my cheek, the entire right half of the face began to roar, as if a colony of red ants had suddenly begun their ravaging attack on my face at the touch of my hands. It was as if someone had taken a spiteful of fire and glided it across the right side of my face. Something warm oozed its way down my cheek.

"In my room," the voice spoke again, its calm and warm tone misted with a thick British accent, "I had you brought here." As I hissed out my antagonizing new pain with screwed shut eyes, warm hands rounded my wrists. They were large hands, rough and coarse like thick, worn-out leather. Seamen hands, I realized through the thick fog of pain.

"What?" I mumbled through the hiss as the hands at my wrists began to pull my own hands down, away from my stinging face. Salty tears glided down my cheek, sending heart-squeezing jolts of pain throughout my body. My teeth grinded in on itself.

"Joey…."

As my vision cleared, my tears trailing away from my eyes, I finally saw who still held my hands.

Sitting beside me on the bed, leaning down on my half-sitting figure was none other then Captain William Turner himself, in all his glory. Even in my half-pain, half-delirious state, he was still a sight; curly brown hair spider-webbed along his handsome face, his usually wind-blown strands tied up behind him in a small ponytail. In the glow of the wavering fire, his tanned face seemed even more golden, droplets of sweat beading his already drenched face. Beneath his dark curls, a small gold hoop earring, one I hadn't noticed before, glinted like a winking eye. A drenched red rag circled around his bronze neck.

Truth be told, I didn't even bother with what he was wearing, or with the fact that he was utterly and totally drenched. At that moment, with raw pain sidelining my view, all that mattered was that he was too close to me, way too close. His hot, salty breath pressed down against my aching face, his warm hands sending jolts of electricity through me as they still circled around my wrists. Beautiful, deep dark eyes gazed down at me with a brimful of emotions, worry creasing his tanned brow like paper. Real, immense concern glowed in his eyes.

Despite my raw, trembling pain, I squeezed out of Will's grasp, reached out a sore hand and cupped his cheek. I had never been happier and more relieved to see anyone in my life. His skin was hot and wet, the heat from the fire making my hand sticky against it instantly. Beads of sweat trailed down onto my hand, like droplets of gold in the wavering light. Despite it all, I liked it; his jaw line was sharp and firm in my palm, his golden skin roughed and coarsened by the wind and the sun. Tendrils of something buzzed away beneath my fingertips, like little zaps of static.

My hand felt perfect in its place.

With a sudden flush of red, Will released my other wrist and snatched my hand away from his face, his fingers closing over my cupped hand and bringing it down to the furry blankets again. At his touch, the skin stung and tears clouded my eyes yet again, but it was not the only pain I felt; something in my heart sank away, like a ship sinking to the bottom of the ocean after it had just been bombarded with cannons. A cold, horrible feeling climbed its way into me.

"Are you alright?" Will shook his head slightly as he spoke, as if to push aside the whole hand-cheek incident from his mind. I wished he hadn't though; it just made me feel worse. Slowly and whilst closing my eyes tightly, I sank back against the pillows, letting my dizzy head rest against the fluffy whites. The raw pain of my skin slowly introduced its way back into me, crawling on all fours from my toes to my head as the pain slowly reinstated itself-it helped engulf the horrible feeling though.

"No…." I mumbled out softly as the pain went on bombarding me, my face screwing up instinctively. The sting on the right of my face was creeping itself up the scale, as if someone was digging a knife through my skin at a pain-stakingly crawling pace. It felt as if the entire right half of my face had been blown off or something; my only comfort was that I could still see with the right eye. The rest of my body burned with sore. After a few moments of silence, I finally managed to whisper.

"W-What happened to me?"

"Sirens," Will answered immediately, his voice suddenly strong and fierce, "You were attacked by sirens, Joey." Without much thought, I opened my bleeding eyes and turned my head towards Will, not bothering to move a single other muscle. It felt as if I had just torn my skin by that simple action. Will still sat beside me on the bed, though his hands no longer strayed near me; they had retreated back to his lap, lying casually on dark pants. His face had changed too-the worried, concerned glow in his features had faded away to something more of hate, his eyebrows sinking in an angry glare. Despite the pain in my face, I lifted the right eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"Sirens, Joey," Will continued, his dark eyes meeting mine as he inched closer towards me, a hand reaching up to comb apart my wet hair, "She-devils of the ocean. They would have killed you if we hadn't reached you in time." Both my eyebrows bent down in confusion; what the hell was he talking about?! As I lay there, pondering quietly and ignoring the irksome pain, Will continued his campaign with my hair; I liked his fingers so near me, combing away at my knotty, sea-wet strands. It was comforting and thrilling at the same time, to say the least.

My mind wandered painfully as Will kept on combing, his hand doing his best to stay as far away from the right of my face as possible. None of this made sense. Sirens?! Who the hell has heard of sirens since the time of the ancient Greeks?! It was all just a legend, a my-

It finally dawned on me.

"The women," I muttered as my eyebrows relaxed on themselves, easing the stretching pain in my face, "The three women in the water…."

"Yes, Joey," Will's head bobbed excitedly in agreement, a weary and grim smile creasing across his face, "Those were the sirens."

"But I don't understand…."

"Sirens are the spirits of the sea, Joey," Will continued on with a sigh, his fingers still brushing through my hair, "Calypso's handmaidens. They're her not-so-faithful servants." As Will spoke, my eyebrows scrunched deeper and deeper. None of this made sense. None of it. I never knew this tale before. As I opened my mouth to speak again, the right of my face seemed to seize.

"S-servants?"

"Yes. She picked three young women out of the locker many, many years ago…when the earth was still young. Let their spirits roam free….of course, those three who attacked you earlier were not the original sirens; those are long gone…dear God, Joey! You should have come to me the instant you heard those voices!" He suddenly seemed angry at me; as if my inabilities to understand or even avoid the situation had been my entire fault. Dark brown eyes flashed down at me with mild anger-his mood swings were really beginning to annoy me. All over my body, the pain was escalating slowly.

"Well, I'm sorry," I scowled at him as best as I could, momentarily ignoring the pain in my face, "Sorry I had no idea what was happening to me, let alone react. B-Besides….I-I still don't get it. Those women…..they couldn't have been-…"

"Sirens are masters of tricks and control, Joey," Will cut me off, matching my scowl, "They can deceive anyone, let alone make any living person do their biding- it's in their song. Their voices are hypnotic, enabling them to control the very movements of their prey."

"P-prey?!"

"Sirens attack the living, Joey," Will breathed another sigh, the scowl in his face softening to a mere weariness, "It's what they have been doing since the beginning of time and its what they will do to the end….Calypso allows them to. Most…most of the time, they go for seamen-they lull them into the waters with their songs for mere entertainment. Just last April, I myself encountered the same three; my men and I am immune to it though, being dead and all."

"B-but….they didn't attack….why the hell did t-they pick me?"

"Sometimes," Will sighed again, looking down with warm eyes, "They kill a young maiden to take one of their places….Joey; you don't understand what almost happened to you. If I hadn't been there in time, those she-devils would have killed you and made you one of them! You would have been lost to me forever."

For a second or so, I just lay there, numb with emotions and pain. This really, truly didn't make sense. If those beautiful women had attacked me, then why the hell can't I remember it?! Tears were clouding up my eyes again. Heat stung my already sore skin.

"You saved me," I realized, staring back at Will with wide, painful eyes, "You saved me from the sirens." The right side of my face was seizing up all over again.

"Yes," Will said simply, his lips stretching out in a firm line, "You were already in the water when I found you-the sirens were already tearing you to bits. I had to dive in immediately to save you." There was no arrogance in his voice, no sense of pride or a need of gratitude. To him, it seemed, saving me from the sirens was the most logical, basic thing to do. It was as if it was in his very blood.

Talk about chivalry.

"B-But…." I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut as another seizure of pain racked the right half of my face, "I don't….I don't remember them attacking me at all. They…They were calling me to join them…they were playing…."

"The evidence is clear, Joey," Will's voice suddenly dipped in a soft purr, like a slow-moving, gentle ripple, "Open your eyes." At his words, I slowly peeled my eyes open, letting the warm, fiery shadows playing on the ceilings flicker back to existence. Muscles moaned and screamed at the action yet again, tears gearing up to pour. Why the hell was I hurting so much?!

"Look down."

For the first time since the sirens, since waking up in Will's bed, I looked down at my body. In the wavering firelight, it was obvious; all over my tanned skin, streaking through in bloody messes were scratch marks. Jagged, bloody lines ran all over my arms, their cuts deep and angry red. They were monstrous, like the clawing of an animal against a bark; red flesh stuck out of the tanned skin in deep groves, the cuts at least a centimeter deep. A creamy yellow-green mixture coated all the cuts, sloshing deep into the bloody trenches like water in mud.

"Oh…my…God…" I breathed in pain as I gaped in disbelief, in utter disbelief of the state of my arms. Claw marks circled my arms from back to front, the riveting red blocked here and there by the yellow-green sludge. At those place, the pain was much worse though. At my wrists, circling it dully, were the imprints of hands. Bloody, strong hands. The print was a dark red, not bleeding, but dark enough to think that it would. Purple bruises blossomed like little poppies all over it. Tight, long red fingers circled both wrists, holding it fast as if in capture. Beneath the blanket, my thighs burned with the same, bloody pain. My insides were doing flip-flops.

"Oh…my…God," I breathed again, panic seizing me in its might. What the hell…those things….Without thinking, I lifted one scarred hand and went straight for my right cheek. I had to know. However, Will stopped me with a quick grab of the hand.

"Its' not that bad," he assured quickly, offering me a hopeful, reassuring smile as he squeezed my hand in his, "Trust me. It isn't. My father treated the wounds…as you can see…and if I know any better, his method always work. These scars on your arms will be gone before you even know it."

"My face…" I started to say but Will cut me off, shaking his head quickly.

"It's just a scratch. Those sirens….one of them clawed you in the face as well. It's only a single scratch…it might be permanent though." At this, he finally stopped talking, biting his lower lip as he looked down at me with worry. I wanted to scream; it explained the pain but it didn't end it. Even now, the right of my face began to seize again, a powerful lurch of tearing pain raking through my body. How could I have been so stupid?! How could I have given up so easily, letting myself be so easily manipulated and tricked by those damn sirens? WAS I THAT FUCKING WEAK?!

"Jared," I finally whispered through a new flow of tears, every inch of me cursing my stupidity and gullibility, "I want my brother."

"Joey-…"

"I want Jared. Please….please. I want to see him."

"I just sent Lestrade down to get him," Will nodded quickly, squeezing his hold of my hand even more tightly as he brought it down to the soft, furry covers, "He would be here any minute alright? Just try to relax." As the salty tears streamed down my face and stung my wound with a vengeance, I couldn't help but curse myself. This was stupid. All of it. Those bitches….I swear, the moment I got back on feet, I am going to chase them down to the bottom of the sea. Yup. All the way. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, can play Joanna Wolfe and get-

At that moment, a single thought struck me, like the banging of a giant gong.

"You said me," I looked up at Will again, ignoring the pain all over my body, my eyes widening to a massive size, "You said me." Beside me, Will's eyes narrowed in confusion, becoming but slits of beautiful brown in his golden face. His brow creased over several times.

"Pardon?"

"Earlier," I gulped back as my throat suddenly parched on itself, my heart quickening to the beat of a jig, "You said that if I had fell to those…sirens, I would have…I would h-have been lost to you. Not us, b-but you." I had no idea why the hell I was suddenly bringing this up. I just couldn't help it. Despite the ravaging pain and the sudden awareness of my close shave of death, a part of me still registered the fact that Will had said _me_. He had said that I would have been lost to _him_. Him only. There had been no mention of my brother, or Scarlett, or anyone else on board. I mean, maybe I truly was reading too much-

"I did," Will nodded his head, a sudden emotion stirring his dark eyes. His rough hand still held mine, his long, clever fingers coyly playing with my own. He was so close to me now, so close; his breath was constant against my stinging cheek. My heart was going crazy in my chest.

"Why?" the words were but whispers from my lips, my throat somehow squeezing on itself and holding my voice. The pain in my arms, in my legs and in my face was somehow melting away, as if the sudden change in conversation and mood was numbing away the torture. A part of me wanted to die right there. Instead, I looked up at Will's dark eyes, waiting for an answer.

For a second or so, he didn't say anything. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he leaned all the way forward and kissed me.

At that moment, I didn't feel anything. Not a single thing. His lips were soft and tender against my own, his jaw working as he pushed against them, unyielding. His dark eyes closed gently, his long eyelashes sliding across my blazing wound as he moved towards me even more. His lips were like fire against my own, a burning, passionate fire that didn't seem to ever want to be put out. Hands slid up my stinging arms, each touch like zaps of electricity through my entire, bleeding being. The pain was gone, faded as Will moaned against my lips, his electric touch never ending.

For a second, I didn't do anything. Then, without a second thought, I pulled a hand of out his travelling arm and grabbed him by the top of his shirt, pulling him into me as I sank into his embrace. It was so amazingly perfect; my heart sang in my ear. As I kissed him back, pushing against his strong lips, his arms proceeded to envelop me, muscular biceps encircling me in a warm, human canopy. He smelt like the wind-swept sea. I closed my eyes in pure, ever living bliss as our kiss slowly deepened, my fingers straying through his thick hair like just how I had wanted to do from the first time I ever saw him. His skin was fiery hot, his hands gliding sensual trails of fire all over me, strumming my every nerve like a harp. His face pressed down on my wounded cheek, stinging me raw, but it didn't matter; I had never wanted to kiss someone so much in my life before. A contented moan escaped my constrained throat as his tongue began to press against my occupied lips, his knees moving smoothly as he slowly climbed his way above me-

"Joe!" Jared yelled out as he bang open the room door, slamming wood upon wood with a resounding _boom_. The entire room vibrated at the sudden arrival, the walls shaking at the massive impact. By me, Will snapped his head back, releasing me from his spell as he looked towards the door. His hands stopped moving, his muscles stiffening as his body froze in dawning horror. Half his face was caked with my blood. With a sharp intake of breath, I twisted my head on the pillow and turned to look at the door; Jared, Scarlett and Lestrade stood paralyzed at the foot of the door, the sulking shadow of Bootstrap hulking behind them all. My brother was the first one of the group, a foot straying into the room with a white-knuckled hand on the rusty doorknob.

Jared looked like he was about to kill someone.

Scarlett looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Lestrade found something quite funny.

Bootstrap looked like the earth was going to end or something.

Will looked like he was about to puke.

Now, isn't this awkward.

**Ta-da! End of Chapter 18! Sorry this has been taking so long to write…I just felt I needed a short break from it. As you have seen, the story is getting more and more serious but I will still try to make it as lively and fun as I can. Thanks for all the reviews and I really hope that you guys leave more reviews and comments. Thanks!**

XOXO


	20. Fetch me my harpoon

**Disclaimer: I down own any POTC characters, even though I would really want to. **

**Thanks for the reviews! I would also like to apologize if I have been taking too long to get to the action. That has to be my biggest weakness. Don't worry-this chapter will start it all again!**

**Chapter 19**

**Fetch me my harpoon**

This is bloody unfair," I muttered sourly as I gazed at the slim reflection in the twinkling metal blade. The merciless sun cast the ancient sword in a gleaming, impenetrable silver yet, despite that, I could still see my own reflection.

I looked like Darth Ceadus

Peering back at me, in the midst of the glowing silver, was a sliver of scarred face. My newly-scarred face. A tendril of shimmery brown snaked its way down the right of my face, a long, jagged line that cut through my bronze skin like a shallow river through earth. It was nasty; it was chipped yet barely crooked, stretching down in a straight line from the top of my forehead to my mid-cheek, a shadowy scar like a watermark in a painting. Flecks of healing flesh still dotted at its sharp edges, like ridges in a barely discerning river. Skims of other short scrapes healed just beneath my eye.

Claw marks.

"It ain't that bad," Captain Barbossa comforted, his voice like cracking wood in the summer wind, "Yer still beautiful, lass." Behind us, crude shouts echoed up into the hot air. With a heavy sigh, I dropped the golden-helmed sword back down into my lap.

"You're just saying that," I breathed out, my chest heaving painfully as I slowly raised my eyes to stare at the man beside me, "You're just being polite." Sunrays licked my bronzed hair in a heart-warming graze, the wind hot and sticky. Beside me, Captain Barbossa returned my squinted gaze with his own, unique one.

For an old man with sticks for legs, the captain of the _Black Pearl_ truly knew how to manage his balance on the rocking waves. He stood on the rickety black deck like a weathered, tanned statue, his thin legs firmly apart above the swaying wood. It was almost as if the man had been rooted in place, a solid, immovable figure among the rushing mass of his own crew.

As it always was, the older man was a picturesque portrait; his long, black duster flew back from his skinny calves, whipping against the lashing hot wind in a flowing short stream of black. Silver buttons glittered at his coat. Up above, his evil friend of a monkey, Jack, sat in silence on his black-clad shoulder, his white and black fur flattened by the pushing wind. Little fingers dug into his master's coat as he too turned his gaze down on me, beady blacks joining sharp yellows. Little fangs protruded over his white fur as he opened his tiny mouth in a silent scream. His whipping tail curled around his master's neck in support, the latter's own beard curling about in the hot wind. The blue plume on his knit black hat threatened to fly off.

"No, I ain't," Barbossa finally replied, his yellow eyes staring down at me with a peculiar expression, "I ain't never polite. Ask dat friend of yers….ask Turner. He'll agree with me. I ain't polite." Behind him, a roly-poly pirate sulkily mopped the black floor, his round pot-belly brushing against the stick as he worked sourly. He wasn't the only one busy; other members of the crew were cleaning up the floor as well, orders barking as thick droplets rolled down their reddened faces. The sun was especially horrid today.

"Whatever," I sighed again, turning away my squinting eyes from the man and his pet, "It doesn't matter. Everything is just screwed up." Before me, beneath the bow of the black ship, the sea churned in the sticky wind. It was breath-taking today, a great expanse of shimmering blue and white in the never-endless sun. Whipping, warm waves crashed against the black bow, its rushing melodies playing a soft tune in the humid air. Little silver fish darted in and out of the rolling sea, glinting like bright pennies in the twinkling deep. The air, though hot, smelled of freshly churned salt and bright water.

It was beautiful day.

Despite the circumstances.

"What _did_ happen, anyway?" Barbossa asked, his voice breaking through my reverie like a cannon through the side of a ship, "What happened till yer got to come over here and hide out? Me ship ain't a get-away hole, lass." At his shoulder, Jack screeched as the wind picked up speed, lashing away.

Jack.

A fitting name, really.

"Oh, nothing," I sighed again, for what was probably the hundredth time today, "Nothing really. I just couldn't stand it anymore." The sea sang in my ear and my hair whipped back.

"Stand what, lass?"

In response, I turned to my left, towards the large ship looming beside the _Black Pearl_.

Moving in stealth silence beside us, sails pulling, was the _Flying Dutchman_. As it always did, it loomed over the black ship in height and length, a giant bulk of wood moving silently above the churning waves. Parchment-white sails streamed in the cloudless sky, the sun's fierce rays casting shifting shadows on its wavering surfaces; the boiling white sun sat just above the crow's nest, a giant ball of white hot blinding all staring eyes. Gleaming white seemed to cover all of the great ship, including the connecting planks.

Standing at the helm of the ship, staring down at his undead crew was Will. Captain William Turner. _Him_. The man, who only a week ago, had kissed me so passionately that no other kiss in the world, none in the past or the future could ever match it in anyway. The man, who had, immediately after that kiss, disown ever having any feelings towards me, pledging to my own brother that his 'sinful' actions would never be repeated again. The very man, who now completely ignored my existence, his eyes never even glancing at me as if that kiss we shared, that kiss which still haunted my memories in cold reminder, was an evil deed that denounced all that he stood for.

The man who wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I see," Barbossa chuckled behind me, his crisp voice rolling over my thoughts like slaps of waves against the bow as he followed my grim gaze, "He still avoiding yer?"

"Like a plague," I replied sourly, only to get a hoarse chuckle and a monkey scream in reply. Hey. At least someone was happy. At the other ship, up at the helm, Will stood silent, a hand resting lazily on the giant, slimy wheel. The merciless white sunlight blanched off his handsome face. At the slime-coated mast, in the swirling dark mass of the undead, I spotted the muscular form of John Lestrade busying with the boltrope.

"Aye, lass," Barbossa continued behind as his monkey began to cuddle, making weird, short sounds from deep within his little body, "I get what yer feeling. I do, lass. But ye yerself have got to try and understand young Mister Turner. He's been through-…"

In a switch, I was jumping down from the barrel and spinning around to face the yellow-eyed captain, the face heating up to match the sun's relentless sting against my back. All around us, the crew of the black-sailed ship continued on with their business, matching the energy and flurry of the undead crew on the other ship; it was particularly windy today, even though it did nothing to dampen the heat. Sudden irritation boiled within me like an awaken fire.

"Right! Like I haven't tried to understand him! Like I haven't done all I could-…"

"Yer don't understand, lass. Ye just don't. Turner's been through a lot this past year, at least from what I hear. He's got a lot on dem mind."

"Yeah," I bit the word savagely as I narrowed my eyes at the tall man, my brow folding in on itself, "Whatever. He's got a lot of things on his mind….well so do I! It's not an excuse to forget that night! Not a damn excuse to just ignore this t-thing between us!!" A hot drop of thick sweat rolled down the side of my face and into the white collar of my outfit, leaving a trail of sticky skin. Gusts of wind blew against the black and white sails, the gale hitting my face in a stinging, warm slap. A seagull sat atop of one of the mizzenmast, plucking its wet white feathers.

"Us?" Barbossa echoed coolly, raising a single brown eyebrow. His black sundial hat shadowed his gleaming cat eyes. At his shoulder, little Jack opened his mouth and showed his gleaming fangs. A call for the Captain echoed from the helm of the _Black Pearl_. In a deep sigh, I half-closed my eyes, folding my hands across my chest.

"I don't know. I just thought-I don't know…"

Without saying another word, I trailed forward, walking slow, heavy steps towards the very tip of the bow. My boots crunched against the rocking wood in slow, momentous _thuds_. My head was in a muddle. A deep, thick black muddle-not for the first time in my life, I felt completely helpless.

The fading pain in my arms and legs did little to clear my head.

As I finally reached the very tip of the ship, my feet slowing to a stop, my squinting eyes reluctantly dropped down to my hands. Just like my face, my arms had been marked; deep groves of week-old claw marks stretched across my arms, crusted here and there in dried blood. They were worst then my face-at least the scar along my right side of the face didn't hurt anymore. At least it didn't sting anymore. They were like animal's clawing marks, jagged and torn throughout my thick skin like the clawing of a bear against the bark of old trees. The worst of the lot, the most painful, disappeared beneath the folded-up sleeve of my left arm. My right middle finger had been wrapped in black cloth-the skin had been partially pulled away from that one.

Almost as if those god-damn sirens had wanted to part me from the ability to flip them off.

Staring down at my aching, scar arms, my memory lingered back helplessly. My mind wandered back to that night, to those dancing she-devils, to those warm protective arms, to those fiery, damp lips-

_No,_ I ordered myself, squeezing my eyes shut as the memory flooded over my senses yet again, drowning me, _Stop it. Stop remembering_. Stop remembering because it will hurt. Stop remembering because it was useless-he doesn't care. Will doesn't care. He doesn't want to know me anymore. He doesn't want to bother with a stupid, teenage girl from the future, a girl who can't even get herself in the right century, let alone deliver a kiss proper enough for a man of his stature-

"He doesn't hate yer if that's what yer thinking," Barbossa's voice cut through my reverie, his coarse tone ringing in my ear. His tall, dark shadow stretched out against the pointed wooden banister before me; somehow, in all my thoughts, the old man had made his way to join at the very front of the ship. Little Jack screamed again, this time louder then before. The hot wind slapped against my face.

"Yeah right. You don't have to fool me. I know when I'm not wanted."

"Then, ye are a fool," Barbossa concluded, his yellow eyes stabbing the back of my bronzed neck like sharp daggers. Someone yelled loudly behind, followed by a resounding crash. At my side, the red-eyed ruby in the gold hilt of my sword winked lazily.

"Whatever."

"Nome, I serious lass. I know how it seems to yer. Young Mister Turner may seem all…..what's dat word…um…"

"Evasive?"

"Aye, aye! Evasive….just because the lad doesn't has his head on right doesn't mean he don't care for ye. After all, he just lost-…"

"It doesn't matter!" I nearly screamed, cutting off the tall, old Captain as I pivoted on my heels in blinding fury, "It doesn't matter at all! Don't you get it?! Whatever happens….whatever happened between us that night doesn't matter in the end, and Will's knows it! Heck, maybe that's why he's acting like this! Maybe he knows that…t-that feeling that night shouldn't be ventured into because in the end of it all, I'm going to find Calypso, get my brother and leave this god-damn place!! You, Sparrow, Lestrade, Will-everyone single one of you will eventually dissolve away into my memories, like a really, really bad dream that I-…"

"Do yer love him, lass?"

It was simple question enough. Beside me, shiny wet in the hot sun, Barbossa gazed down at me with a cocked eyebrow, his bushy long beard flapping away in the wind. Jack stared his adorable, evil eyes down at me too. With a deftly placed frown and a scrunched up nose, I narrowed my eyes at the old man.

"Of course not," my voice came out smooth though beneath my skin, my heart threatened to jump out of my mouth, "Are you draft? Of course I don't love him-I've only known him for a week and a half. How the hell can you fall in love with someone who you've only just met?!"

_Why not?_ a voice, a tiny little voice, whispered at the back of my head, taunting me, _Why isn't it possible?_ For a second, my mind went numb as I weighed the possibility, staring blankly up at yellow eyes as my brain chugged away; was it possible?! Was it possible that I could be in _love_ with Will? I mean, sure, it's very likely that I had strong feelings for the man. After all, he was stunningly beautiful, his handsome, perfect features outdone by the wealth of his heart-he was kind and gentle, and though at times, he suffered from a serious case of mood swings, the very fragility and tortured soul of the man was alluring and completely addictive. Besides, that kiss-

_But did I love him?_

All of a sudden, Captain Barbossa's hoarse voice cut through my reverie like knife through leather.

"I'm afraid, lass, dat our little discussion has to be for another time. We've got com'pany."

Mindlessly, I followed the man's gaze straight to the empty right, out into the twinkling sea; riding just at the horizon, tall and magnificent, was a ship. It was but a dot against the clear blue but it features were evident-creamy white sails flew high up into the air, struggling against the whipping hot gale. Rushing blue waves crashed into the approaching bow, rocking the large ship up and down like a baby's cradle. Potholes of black dotted the approaching ship's sides, blue water rushing up to quench the green barnacles' thirst. A single red flag flapped madly above, parts of its mizzenmast hanging lose over the edge. Hot noon light blanched it in a stunning white.

A crooked smile formed on my lips.

Finally.

_Betty._

* * *

Things never go out according to plan.

This was a lesson I had learnt many years ago, from the many mistakes that maturity brings; a planned-out, smooth sailing party ends up with the cops at our door. Or a pre-organized camping trip precedes a massive hurricane in unfamiliar surroundings. Or a calm, worked-out plan to stake Sparrow with a sharp harpoon at first sight ends with an even bloodier mess.

Say now.

My clenched fist screamed as I pulled it back from Sparrow's face, blood splattering in fat, red droplets. Sharp pain lanced through my raw knuckles. My heart yelled with satisfaction. In front of me, the tall, wheezing figure that was Sparrow doubled-over with a yell; his glinting gold hand made a grab for his gaping mouth as he staggered back, hot blood gushing out of his tanned, scrunched up face like a streaming, red waterfall. His buckling feet threatened to give way beneath his swaying weight. A soft, almost discernible moan escaped his thin lips as fierce pain washed over his eyes, his partially hidden features tensed up like cords of a wire. Dark, beautiful eyes were snapped wide.

"Joey!" Jared yelled behind me, grabbing my right arm fiercely as I staggered back from the impact, my hand swinging loosely down to the side. I swear, he was such a mother hen. Long fingernails bit deep down into my arm, like an iron bracelet over the white sleeve. Blood streamed down my fingers helplessly.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

"Oh, just shut up," I murmured in reply. I didn't have time for this. Not now. In front of us, Captain Jack Sparrow already seemed to be on the road to recovery, and that wasn't good enough for me.

"Guess I deserved dat," Sparrow scrunched his handsome face as he spoke, pulling up from his half-bent. Muscles seized in his face, his dark eyes turning skyward as he rode through the stinging pain. His hand left his mouth in a bloody trail. Within my own body, anger burned away any logic.

"Yeah," I gritted my teeth, easily shrugging out of Jared's iron grip as I pushed forward, fury surging me ablaze, "You did. You fucking did." Hot blood poured down my loose hand, trailing to the floor in fat drops. Boots shuffled uneasily behind me.

For a second, guilt seized me.

Hell, I shouldn't have done that.

…….

Oh, screw it. I don't care. This bastard deserved it; he had manipulated me in every way. He had used my brother and I for his selfish, primitive needs and then, cast us away-_literally_-to our very deaths. Our _deaths_. He had left us to _die_!

Screw diplomacy.

In front of me, wheezing for breath, Sparrow smiled; blood caked his gold-capped teeth, his thin lips a stunning, violent red. Hot blood stained into his dark beard too, running through the thick roots and down the dancing beads in fat penny-sized tears. The pain was fading in his eyes, the hot red fires within burning in a fierce heat. The hot, slapping wind tried to whip his hat of his bandana-ed head.

"Oh, come on luv," Sparrow coughed vaguely and then spit off to the side, a thick rolling clot of blood shooting the black wooden boards like a bullet, "Forgive and forget, eh?"

"For-dream on, ass hole! After everything you did to us…you expect me to forgive you?!"

"Well, aye," Sparrow nodded his heavy head as the red smile vanished from his face, a simple look of plain innocence taking its place, "That's exactly what I expect. I mean, it wasn't like I did it on purpose or anything."

For a second, I just stood there, staring at the man. This was insane. He-_what_?! Behind me, off to my right, Barbossa chuckled a deep, throaty sound. My raw knuckles continued to leak blood-I was beginning to think that this wasn't only that Sparrow's blood dropping to the floor. Rage rolled under my skin, like an approaching wave. The heat was killing me.

"You…" I faded off, eyes wide at the man, before continuing again, raising my voice into a loud scream, "YOU TELLING ME THAT THROWING ME OFF INTO THAT DARK SEA WASN'T ON PURPOSE?!?!"

The man before me opened his mouth and raised a finger to make a point; he didn't say a word. He just stood there, poised in place, immovable in the lashing wind. His long black dreadlocks thrashed back against his black shirt, flogging against him like a harsh whip. Trickles of blood seeped down his fine chin. Behind him, shouldering the _Black Pearl_, _Betty _bobbed up and down on the waves like the head of a bobbing cat; all three ships had anchored in place, holding them still in the rushing waves. A seagull called from overhead.

"That's it!" I decided finally, sick and tired of waiting for Sparrow's response. Without another word and with a surging, twisting heart, I pivoted on my heels to face our stinky spectators.

"Red-Head!" I hollered, glaring at the small-sized Scarlett that stood just behind Jared, shouldered on both sides by Lestrade and the one-legged Mordecai, "Fetch me my harpoon!" The smelly, wide-eyed crowd made no response; Scarlett paled at the mention of her, fine red eyebrows darting up to the hairline. Her high, angular cheekbones flamed with a sudden red-almost as red as Sparrow's blood. In front of me, the mass of dirty, smelly man was mixture of both crews; most of the undead crew of the _Flying Dutchman_ had walked their way over the planks the moment both ships had been anchored, anxious to witness the new happenings. Jared had been the first in line.

Surprisingly, no great undead Captain.

I'm being sarcastic, by the way.

"Oh, calm down, lass," Barbossa spoke for the first time, snapping my head around like a magnet would move a metal, "It's over and done. We've got more pressing issues to atten' to." His voice croaked as he spoke; he stood at the edge of the crowd of pirates, stroking his monkey as he watched us with keen, yellow eyes. Little Jack screeched at his shoulder; behind me, Sparrow muttered a line of curses, at the-monkey.

"Aye, luv, aye," I swished my head around again as Sparrow made a few steps, approaching with a hanging, bloodied jaw, "Him right. It's over, aye? And besides, luv, it ain't like it didn't work out in the end. Eh, savvy?" He grinned his blood-drenched teeth, his dark eyes glinting as he stopped his few steps. The smile was crooked and altogether plain stupid. Rage heated up my body in waves; thick rolling drops of sweat slithered down my neck. My knuckles were becoming numb.

"What?" I bit out those words as though they were poison.

"Well, yer here, aren't ye luv? Yer here and safe; I mean, sure, I didn't expect them three of yer to live through that island. I did, but ye lot aren't me, no? I didn't expect to see yer again but look-yer here, luv! Yer alive! Saved by that eunuch Turner but its no matter…all that is is that yer alive! With a scar to keep too! Now that is something to toss some rum to, no?"

For the second time in the last five minutes, I just stared at the idiot before. Then, without warning, pure, untainted anger kicked me in the guts.

"That's it! I'm killing you!"

I surged forward, forgetting my pain, forgetting the heat. My legs kicked in as I ran towards the looming, swaying figure of Sparrow, my bloodied fist rising up into the air-

All of a sudden, warm arms grabbed me around my mid-section. They were long and muscular, tanned branches winding around my waist like tight, unbreakable seatbelts. They were strong; as I froze there, shocked by the sudden touch, those white-clad arms dragged me backward, wrists pressing my agitated body back against a sweaty, lean one.

It was Will.

Who else could it be?

He held me back, dragging my metal booted toes against the black wood as he pulled me away from my target; Sparrow's lean figure shrinked away before me, a confused expression spreading across his bloody face. A single, black eyebrow raised in question. Behind me, Will's body was tense as he pulled-his dark brown curls swept against the side of my face, hot and sticky with sweat. His body was a hard rock behind me, muscles pulled to a sharp strain as he pulled my lifeless, shell-shocked form back into the crowd; his hot sweat stained into my leather-covered back, his arms hot and tight around my waist. His sweet vanilla scent, salted with sweat, wafted over my senses.

I couldn't think straight.

It was the first time he had touched me in days.

The memory was too much to bear.

And just like that, he was gone. He released me deftly and then, without even a glance, strode forward, ignoring my very presence as he made for Captain Sparrow. His boots made low _crunches_ against the black wood boards. All around me, the revolting crowd of pirates stared over at me like I was an enormity or something; as I stared at the retreating back of Will, my heart twisted in on itself. A hole seemed to grow deep down inside, an empty black hole.

_He touched me._

Then, completely ignored me.

As I stared blankly, my mind glazed and swept clean, Jared walked through the leering crowd and towards me; without a moment's hesitation, he hissed into my ear.

"Idiot." And that was the end of it; for reasons unknown-perhaps because we were twins-my brother tapped quickly into my mood. Without a word, he wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders, drawing me in. His warmth was like a badly-needed comforter.

It was like my heart had fallen into that deep, empty black hole.

"What took you so long?" Will's voice broke through my thoughts like a dagger stabbing through my beating heart. I scrunched my toes and blinked back into the world; Will had ended his stride, stopping just a few steps away from the bloodied Sparrow. I couldn't see his face for his back was to me but it was only obvious that Will was agitated-his shoulders were drawn up, muscles tense. His luscious brown hair whipped back into the blistering wind.

"Ye knew I was coming," Sparrow declared, not asked, raising both eyebrows. The crooked, bloody grin cracked even more widely across his tanned face-his black, beaded beard was practically dripping blood. All around me, the pirates had returned their attention back to the front; only Scarlett-not a pirate-bothered at all with me, watching Jared and I from the corner of her olive eyes. Her face was unreadable. For the first time, I noticed that Bootstrap was missing.

"I did. And I expected you sooner-tell me, Jack, has that compass of yours finally failed on you?"

Sparrow's smile widened at Will's spiteful word of 'Jack'. A strange fire bloomed in his dark pools; it was all too familiar. At the corner of the crowd, the other Jack gave out a loud hoot, earning a quick, paranoid glare from the original one. Black sails flapped back overhead.

"Ah," that little peculiar smile played across his lips, "You know."

"All too well."

"And let me guess," Sparrow side-lined away from Will, looking past the younger man's figure, "My pretty luv told yer."

"I AM NOT-"

"That doesn't matter," Will's voice cut off my yell, his tone as velvet and smooth as it always was, " What matters is that I know and I want in."

"We," Barbossa interrupted, taking a strongly-placed step forward, "It's a we, Mister Turner. Don't forget dat." From this angle, his yellow cat eyes were hidden away in the shadow of his hat. Jack nibbled at something at his shoulder. In response, Will turned his head slightly back, his brown curls dancing in the hot gale. The white hot sun, once again, seem to blanch out his features. All around Jared and I, the human pirates whispered to one another; the pale, undead seamen were silent though, as if they too knew the secret of the Fountain. They did not, of course; they were just obedient.

Up in front, Jack offered an odd chuckle.

"Aye, this thoroughly is the day! Me old foe and my not-so-old one! Partners, together against me! Of course, I can't say I didn't see it coming…even though I did save both yer lives before and truthfully-"

"Yer never saved my life, yer old dog! Not once! In fact, yer the one who killed me!!"

"Spur of the moment, old friend," Sparrow nodded at Barbossa with a tilt of his lips, his dark eyes wide with obvious humour, "Definitely was not without reason." Barbossa took a few more steps in reply, lips scrunching up into a thick frown. Over on _Betty,_ someone was lowering the white sails as fast as they could-Mr. Gibbs, I reckoned. Seagulls argued and fought up at the crows nest.

For a moment, Sparrow cast his gaze over everyone on his former ship. His dark eyes slowly made their way around, travelling across the different faces; Will and Barbossa kept silent as the man let his eyes rove. Faces remained solemn under his focus, sweaty, pale faces returning the stares without a single moment of hesitation; up in front, just beside Lestrade, a duo waved meekly at Sparrow. From their opposing forms, I say it was Ragetti and his glass-eyed friend, Pintel-Barbossa had told me on the fourth day that I was more then free to yank those two on the heads if I felt like it.

Finally, after a good few minutes of looking-he took a little longer at me-, Sparrow smirk grew wider.

"Anyway, to yer first question, on why I was late to finding ye…well, I had a bit of delay."

"Delay?"

"Aye," Sparrow returned his gaze to Will, eyebrows shooting up in humor, "I had the navy on me heels."

"Navy? What the hell did you do now?"

"Agitate that one's father."

At Sparrow's last sentence, the man nodded past Will, past his shoulder and towards a red-haired figure; Scarlett.

Agitation and pure disturbance flowed over the crowd of pirates, murmurs rising in volume as all eyes on deck turned towards the pretty red-head; Scarlett just stood there, silent in the middle of all those eyes. Her pale skin turned waxen white as her large eyes darted around us, panic swarming up the green. Her arms folded across her chest protectively. Beside me, Jared's arm tensed around my shoulder.

Oh oh.

"Nonsense," Will dismissed immediately, his smooth voice cutting through the growing chatter, "You're an idiot, Jack. Always was. That girl's nothing-she's just a servant."

"Just a servant? Is that what these kids told you?"

Though the fog of the awakening truth, Will's shoulders tensed even more, his back pulling up to a razor sharp. Air stopped moving around him as his entire being went completely still, his mind churning away. Around us, the commotion escalated rapidly-Lestrade questioned in his loud voice, while others merely chattered among themselves, accusing fingers flying towards Scarlett. Her skirted overall whipped in the wind as she just stood there, frozen in place. Frantic eyes gazed back at Jared and I, completely and positively afraid.

Barbossa said nothing.

Jared's jaw tightened.

Without another word, Will pivoted on his heels to glare at Scarlett, at her petite, pale figure among all the black. Her red hair kicked about in the boiling wind. A chill crept over me in the heat as the all the commotion slowly died away; Will's eyes were wide and large, and very, very black. His voice pierced through the dying noise like a sword through flesh, dropping into a deathly quiet tone.

"Who are you?" Mood swings. There, I told you. Up in front, Scarlett paled to an impossible shade. Her voice seemed to have vanished from her throat. Beside me, Jared looked as if he was about to bolt towards her. Finally, after seconds under the undead Captain's fiery glare, Scarlett cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry but….My name is Lady Scarlett-Marie Errol."

"And who is that?"

"I am the d-daughter of Lord Errol."

They were the simple words yet somehow, they had seemed like a freaking kill switch-an explosion erupted from the crowd of pirates, voices crashing together like a nuclear war. Excitement, disbelieve….all different sorts of emotions staked up into the air as the crowd shouted among one another. Noise flooded all of my senses as whispers of _Errol_ ended every sentence. My nails bit into my folded palms.

"Errol," Will repeated slowly, his face twisting with an unreadable emotion as he gazed at Scarlett and only at Scarlett, "As in Commodore Errol? The new one, the one that replaced Beckett?" As Will spoke, silence slowly shifted back over the crowd, as if on cue. The noise died away slowly.

"Y-yes. That's my father. Though the name 'Commodore' hasn't quite stuck yet."

For a second, Will said nothing as silence re-entered the world-everyone saw it best to shut the hell up. Dark brown eyes stared with confusion at Scarlett's pretty face, his brow creasing on itself. Dark, perfect eyebrows shot up to his black bandana. At his dipping collar, his golden medallion blinded in the fierce light.

For a second, he just stared, thinking.

Then, as if someone he trusted had stabbed him in the heart, his handsome face twisted in plain fury.

"YOU LIED!" he roared, rage spilling over his face like an engulfing flood. Fist clenched in on themselves as he stared furious, black eyes at Scarlett, his lips twisting in a horrid sneer. It was as if the anger, the blatant wrath had consumed him into a morphing, hideous monster. His brown curls swiped into the wind, like the lashing of whips. His skin shaded a dark red. In front of me, Scarlett seemed to shrink back against the crowd.

"I-I can explain…."

"It was my idea," I found myself talking, before I could even think, "I lied to you."

It was as if time froze.

For the first time in days, Will looked at me. His dark brown eyes met my own golden ones as he stared at me, looking at me as if seeing me for the first time. His eyes widened as he stared, jaw dropping slightly. In a blink of an eye, the anger began to fade, his contorted features easing slowly back into shape. The large, lashing fire in his eyes was dying; instead, confusion began to swarm in, replacing the fury as if it had never even been there. I breathed in the hot, salty air.

All of me wanted to die right there.

"Why?"

In reply to Will's near whisper, I moved out of brother's grasp; before he could stop me, I was walking forward and standing right beside Scarlett, my shoulder brushing against her chin. Her large green eyes watched me with plain disbelief. In a single, swift moment, I grabbed her small, pale hand.

"Simple," I bit the words down, my eyes never leaving Will's dawning ones as I squeezed the tiny hand, "You're pirates. Bloody, loony pirates. The last thing I'm going to do is trust you with a rich damsel in distress." The wind was slapping my hot cheeks, as if punishing me for something. At my hand, the blood had already dried. My knuckles were still raw.

Far ahead of me, standing before a smirking Sparrow, Will just stared. Large brown eyes never left mine as it finally dawned on him:

"You didn't trust me," he whispered the words, a tidal wave of genuine pain engulfing his beautiful eyes. Any sense of anger or disbelief had faded away; all that was left was a jagged slash of throbbing pain, a wash of hurt that spread all over his handsome face. His eyes hurt to look at, yet somehow, bitterness-bitterness from all these past days- drove me forward.

"I don't."

I might as well have stabbed him.

"Well," Jack clapped his hands, catching my attention as quickly as I hoped he would, "Now that we are all done here…." Will just stood silently before him, still staring at me; I wouldn't look at him. I couldn't. I shan't. I didn't want to see it at all; I didn't want to see the pain, the pain that _I_ caused him. I won't. I'll never….

"Where do yer think yer going?" Barbossa's voice cracked through the ringing silence-behind Will, Sparrow made for his escape, walking in exaggerated tip-toes. His hands were flinging about all again. Behind me, the crowd of pirates was deathly silent.

"Back onto me ship…yer know…to get something."

"Not yet. Not until yer give us what we want. Not until we get de map."

"And what if I don't, eh, savvy?"

In a wink, Barbossa moved in a flash; a gun was held firmly in his hand, pulled out of his holster. Its thick, two steel barrels were pointed at Jack's retreating figure, as if daring him to take another step. A gnarly finger was poised over the trigger. Behind Will, on his tip-toes, Sparrow froze in mid-air.

"Then, I'll just shoot yer."

**END OF CHAPTER!**

Sorry this took so long to write but I needed some ideas. Anyway, thanks once again for all the reviews! School is going to start soon so things might take a little while to do. However, I will still do my best. It will take a while to come up with the next chapter as I still have to think it through…however, in case any of you are wondering, from chapter 20 onwards, the journey to the Fountain of Youth will definitely escalate! There are more exciting obstacles to come as well, I promise, more intense, not-so-pleasant moments between Joey and Will. Please review this story so that I can see where to improve on. Thanks and bye for now!

**SPOILER ALERT: the next few chapters will see Joey and Will at constant loggerheads, though it's mostly Joey that is mad. They will definitely be fighting a lot more. Stay tune for the truth behind Will's recent past and Joey and Jared's history too. It will come up in the next few chapters.**

**P.S. Please help me out by commenting on what exactly do you wish had happened to Elizabeth. I'm still a little clueless on that-did she die or leave?! I CAN'T CHOOSE!!! So please help me out by leaving your reviews! Thanks!**

**XOXO**


	21. A Riddle to Solve

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC Characters, only my OCs.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and I hope you enjoy this one too! And by the way, just so you know, Joey gets a new outfit-something sexier! **

For the first time since we got here, since we became trapped in this sinister web between time and space, I began to weigh the most probable outcome.

What _would _it be like to live out here?

No cars-only stinking ships. No McDonalds-only chicken legs that wasn't even chicken. No crazy, rock concerts-just stupid jigs on little fiddles that made you want to jump around without any form of self-control.

At least I had enough sense to get stuck in a century full of beer.

Directly opposite me, leaning back on the gold-rimmed chair, Jared draped his large hand over his pink-tinged face.

"They've been at it for hours!" he groaned tiredly, his voice muffled and choked behind his hand. In the last pink and amber rays of the fading day, his hair was like matted hay; gold spikes stuck out of his head, ruffled and messy from plain exhaustion. Shifting shadows danced across his face, like dark nymphs with their trailing black gowns. His long, footballer legs stretched out between us. At his side, Scarlett scrubbed at her half-closed eyes.

"6 hours to be exact," I yawned in reply, my aching arms reflexively stretching out sore muscles, "Not that I have a watch or anything." Beneath me, my sore, cramping legs curled under my butt like a safety net, the edges of the metal boots cutting into my flesh in vengeance-they drew up to my black-clad knees and though it would have pleasured my aching toes and legs much, it was all too tedious to remove. Metal toes hung over the red velvet chair as I pulled in even farther, my arms returning back to cuddle between my knees and chest. In the background, voices drone on in cryptic words.

It's a new outfit, in case you were wondering; during the past 6 hours we had been here, waiting for these goddamn pirates to make up their minds, Scarlett had showed me something in her room. It was an outfit, a feminine yet tomboyish outfit designed for easy maneuver and simple attractiveness. A combination of vanity and convenience. A cross between a female Indiana Jones and…well…Sparrow. It was pretty good actually:

"Where the hell did this come from?" I had bellowed at the petite redhead as she tossed me the clothes, spins of yellow and black flying towards me, "Did you mug someone?"

"Of course not!" Scarlett had cried in reply, crossing her arms fiercely across her small waist as she glared those pretty eyes of hers at me, "I made them for you." In the streaming shadow of her room, her red hair had shone with a brilliant crimson-like blood. Unlike our room next door, her bed was neat as a pin.

"What? _Made_ them?!"

"Yes. What did you think I had been doing this past few days, stuck on this pathetic ship? Lestrade offered me some old drapes-"

"You made my clothes out of _curtains_?!"

"Oh, just shut up and wear it."

Sitting now, curled up in my chair in the shadow of the passing day, a little tinge of gratitude poked into my side; they _were_ good. Very good. Unlike those skirted overalls that Will had given me, the one that belonged to that Elizabeth woman, Scarlett's design was actually pretty cool: my sun-licked shoulders were completely bare against the soft red. Instead, long, old yellow sleeves began their descent at my mid arm, parallel to my cleavage-the yellow cloth widened as it climbed down, ending at the wrists in thick puffy clouds of dirty parchment. The rest of my torso was clad in the same material, the loose yellow cloth shaping out my curves as smoothly as it could. A wide yellow tongue hanged down from the cloth, to just below my hips. The top wasn't finish though- a thick brown leather corset hugged around my torso, tight and stern yet flexible too. It was laced at both sides, thin dirty brown strings marching up in a pattern of criss-crosses as they ended just below my bosom. Up onwards, just above the tight bodice and the gap of yellow between, my heaving breasts curved out of the soft dirty cloth in a way I never thought they could; for a moment, despite all of Scarlett's protests at my slight changes, I actually looked sexy.

Sexy enough to get a single scowl of disapproval from my brother in reply.

"Can you hear what they are saying?" Scarlett murmured from her post beside Jared, a hand cupping over her mouth as she yawned discreetly. Spheres of sparkling green peered out of the growing darkness in groggy slits- one of Barbossa's men, a ratty-looking fellow, walked around with a lighted flint, making the lanterns of use again. Soft fires began to glow at the dark corners of the room, bringing life back into the black study. Burning oil tinged my nose with a slight tickle. At the other side of the room, the window revealed the setting sun. With a tired yawn yet again, I shook my head.

"No, Red-head," I sighed, closing my eyes momentarily as I knocked my shaking head against the red velvet, in search of comfort, "I gave up listening to them at the first hour."

"As had I," Jared slide his hand over his face and up into his hair, pulling his reddened features. Tired, lethargic fingers raked their way through the golden, messy hay. Beside him, Scarlett stretched out her black-clad legs. Light was fading from the world-fast.

"Yeah," I spoke through another yawn, eyes still close as I sunk deeper into the soft red, "And I don't care. Let them talk-we are all going to die anyway." Jared snorted in reply.

As I sat there, curled up in the fading day, my mind began to fall back into the dark. I wanted to sleep again, to go back into that slumber of which the three of us had fallen into during the last two hours. I wanted to nap all over again. To rest, to close my eyes to the black and white reality that swarmed around me like spiraling, relentless hurricane. I wanted to forget.

_Maybe when I wake up, this would have been all a bad dream._

Yet, when I opened my eyes, nothing had changed; I was still here, napping away in quiet study of the _Black Pearl_. Muffled, arguing voices still hummed away in the glowing dark and before me, Jared and Scarlett still rested in their armchairs, fingers playing with one another in the empty space between them. Boots still shuffled as lamps continued to be lit, the amber ball of the sun still sinking its way back into the gold-streaked sea.

I was still here.

Still trapped.

"Soooo," I dragged out the word as I lazily glanced over at Scarlett, my heavy eyelids begging to drop back down, "You're father's looking for you." It was statement, not a question. After all, it only made sense-I had only met him once but a man such as Lord Errol, a man who throws an innocent girl into prison for her _pants_, seemed like the kind of guy who would do anything when his interests were at stake.

Like, I don't know, send an entire armada after his kidnapped daughter.

Well, after the ship that supposedly kidnapped her anyway- _Betty_

Beside Jared, Scarlett turned her awakening green eyes towards me, biting anxiously on her lower lip. At the side of my head, my dark blonde curls had spread about the velvet red in flowing streams of brilliant gold. The sun's last rays felt oddly cold against my skin. At the corner of the room, beside the door, a little, gray cat with deep brown eyes watched us with intelligent eyes.

"Yes," Scarlett nodded slowly, eyes slowly growing wide, "I suppose he is."

"Congrats then."

"Thank you," was her only reply as her jade eyes dropped down to her lap, her voice curt. Unlike Jared and I, who had made ourselves more then comfortable on the gold-trimmed chairs over the last few hours, Scarlett had kept a sense of dignity-her booted feet never left the ground, staying in a complete, polite rigor the entire time. Her back pulled upright as she slowly shook away sleep, her red hair flowing down her long back like the tossing red mane of a gentle horse. Sleep had puffed up her eyes, by just a little. Beside her, Jared turned a bored head behind him, to check on the squabbling pirates.

"Thank you?" I raised a lazy eyebrow at her comment, head still pressed against the soft red, "That's all you can say? Shouldn't you be jumping around for joy? I mean, you _are_ being saved."

"O-of course! I…. I am glad…"

"Well, you could have fooled me," I retorted in the midst of another yawn, frowning slightly over at the petite redhead, "If I were you, I would be _ecstatic_! Someone pulling me out of this bad-dream…Hell, do you think your father would rescue us too?"

Scarlett just looked up at me in reply, green eyes flashing away any remnants of sleep. Pink cheeks, tinged even more in the setting sun's glow, bloomed beneath her olive eyes like poppies below green stalks. Her red hair seemed to have a life of its own. In between my brother and her, in the loose space between their chairs, pale fingers still played with tanned ones-they dangled over the armrests into each other's grip, long fingers and sharp nails cloying together like dancing reeds in the wind. The ratty-man with the lighted flint approached the table in the middle of the little group with heavy steps, geared up to bring some light into the dark lantern on it. Hush voices still buzzed in the darkening background.

For a second, Scarlett blinked her eyes, like a lovely, china doll. Then, with gleaming white teeth, she spoke in a soft voice.

"It's not all that bad, Joanna," her voice was like a melodious tune in the warm air, "This…this adventure of ours…there has been some good." Light bloomed at our table.

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

In response, Scarlett did an almost discernible thing; with a quick snap of her bright eyes, she clamped her hand over Jared's and squeezed a little. Just a little. Pretty white nails tightened over raw, bitten ones, pale over the rough bronze-I was beginning to think that Scarlett never burned in the sun. Either that, or she just never went out. Beside her, Jared showed no response; his golden head was still facing around, eyes intent on the only other conversation in the room. The ratty man with the flint shuffled away.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I helplessly raised an eyebrow at Scarlett again, slowly straightening my back as I leaned even farther into the soft red.. A lazy whine, almost inaudible, purred beneath my dry throat. In the background, a familiar apian scream chilled the cooling air followed by a loud smack. At the window, at the end of the room, the sun gave its last, meager gleam as darkness swirled above it, threatening night. Jared's head was still turned.

"You know what it means."

"Look, if you are talking about this oh-so-perfect thing you and my brother are playing at, then you might as well come out and say it. Everyone al-"

"That's it!" Jared suddenly snapped, his head swiveling around in a quick interruption, "I'm sick of waiting!" It was as if a zap of energy had struck him hard in the face, his once-sleepy blue eyes jarred open in a sudden fire. Muscles pulled out from their lazy stir. At his left eye, a faded old blemish poked out of the shadows. Without another word and with a flash of his angry blue eyes, he pulled back his fingers and made to stand up from his red chair; in a quick pull of my muscles, I unfurled a single leg and kicked him hard in the shin. Metal met hard muscles as my brother went back down, his face screwing up in obvious pain. A loud _thud_ rang through the cooling air.

"What the-JOEY!"

"Oh, shut up, cowboy," I stifled yet another yawn as I slowly uncurled my other leg, stretching my arms upwards in preparation, "This mission doesn't need brawn; it needs brain. You obviously lack _that_." Before my brother could snap something in reply, his hands clutching his sore shin, I was already on my feet; lazy, lethargic bones creaked like old wood as metal boots planted firmly down on black wooden boards, my entire body groaning in protest. My head felt like a thick iron casket upon my neck. Beneath the blowy yellow sleeve, the bloodstained bandage around my knuckles begged to be scratched.

In front of me, in his velvet chair, Jared made to rise again, eyes flashing in defiance. The final pink rays seemed to shade his entire face in an angry and pained cherry. As he made forward, his lips set to snap again, Scarlett reached forward and grabbed his hand back.

_Ew._

Without even bothering over the two of them for another second, I brushed past my frozen-still twin and onward towards the treacherous waters.

* * *

Standing around a circular table at a black corner of the room, heads bent together in fierce concentration was my three most favorite people in the world: Sparrow, Barbossa and Will talked in quiet voices, their figures black against a single frail light upon the table. Wavering gold flickered across their features, outlining their oh-so-different silhouettes in limes of shimmering warm-a hook nose there, a perfect face nearby and an evil, familiar grin here. It was as if I was staring at an old impressionist painting; they barely moved as they talked, a picture of pirates conversing, discussing, working together before a shivering lantern's glow. Two large hats bent towards the middle, the other head adorned only by a simple bandana. Pink-tinged black surrounded their little gold canopy, three unwavering figures gathered around a small table in vivid discussion-they looked like ghosts, ghosts of old in a secret meeting.

For a second or so, I wanted to paint them.

As I moved closer, boots thudding against the black wood, I slowly picked up on their conversation.

"Look, dis is _my_ map. I get to decide-"

"Technically, Jack, it was I who stole that map in the map in the first place. To save you, in fact, you good-for-nothing pirate!"

"Ah, a plate calling a cup black."

"You're an idiot. It's a kettle-"

"Look, gentlemen, I don't think arguin' over something like dis is goin' to solve anything. We still have to figure dis one out."

"I already told you, Barbossa. It doesn't make any sense. None of it does."

"Aye, but it has to. It's on de map and good ol' Calypso wouldn't put anything on it unless-"

"Unless she's just pullin' one on us. It wouldn't be the first time, after all."

"Aye, but not on here, eh savvy? Not on dis map. That sentence…there's probably a secret mess'age-"

"I still can't believe that you haven't even cracked it yet. All this time with the map-what exactly _was_ your plan, huh Jack? Attack the Pearl with a two-manned ship and pray for a miracle? Was that it?"

"Actually, that sounds about right."

"Perhaps we're looking at this all wrong, lads. Turner, go and fetchin' dat Ragetti and tell him-"

"I'm not one of your men, Barbossa. I don't take anyone's orders."

"For the love of the King, boy! Just go on up there-"

"I'm not a boy, Barbossa. "

"Perhaps we're reading this the wrong way, eh, savvy? Perhaps we are meant to tilt it-"

"What the hell are you three idiots arguing about now?" I interrupted with a low sigh, breaking through the circle in slow but steady steps. In front of me, around the circle table, all three heads snapped up; Will and Sparrow swiveled their heads around, glaring down at me with outright surprise. Flickering, warm light danced across their shock-stricken features, the shadows of the beginning night hiding them beneath their folds. At the other end of the table, directly opposite me, Barbossa looked up from the wood with an equally expressed face, the gold light cascading across his silver-brown beard like licking smooth streams. Shadows stuck out of his gold skin like small, black shallows. At his shoulder, little Jack munched away at a peanut.

They obviously had forgotten my very existence.

"Joey," Will was the first to speak, his bright brown eyes shaded in the growing shadows, "You've changed." His dark brown curls shivered at his broad shoulders, to a breeze that wasn't even there. A knot of hard muscle jumped at his firm jaw. Beside him, Sparrow was running his eyes all over my body with a disgusting, ugly leer, the shock of my interruption having been wiped off his face in a blink of an eye. Barbossa watched in silence.

"Well, yes," I nodded slowly, my arms suddenly becoming heavy at my side as Sparrow continued his roving all over me, "Scarlett made them for me." It seemed the strangest thing to say, at that moment, but somehow, I said it anyway. Will had asked, after all.

Which reminds me-why the _hell_ was I talking so sweetly to him for?

Beside Will, Sparrow's leer only got wider as his eyes continued their little back-packing trip all over my body; okay, so yes. This outfit was a little revealing. As in 'bare shoulders and obvious cleavage' revealing. Not forgetting, of course, a tight black pants that might as well be my second skin; truthfully, I was still surprised Scarlett actually even _designed_ this for me. I mean, shouldn't she have wanted me to wear something more….proper? Being Scarlett and all?

I swear I will never understand people, not for as long as I live.

For a few moments, no one said a word. Somewhere, far behind, Jared and Scarlett talked in low voices, soft buzzes in the warm air. Lanterns continued to lit around the room.

Finally, Barbossa broke the silence, an old, weathered smile cracking across his bronzed face.

"Aye, lass," he grinned in his peculiar way, his yellow cat eyes glowing a bright gold in the flickering candlelight, "Yer looking more and more like a pirate now." Jack gnawed noisily at his shoulder. With a slight hump and quick draw of my arms to my chest, I snorted in reply.

"Call me pirate one my time and I will kick your ass, no matter who you are. And you," I shifted my glare towards the grinning Sparrow, completely ignoring Will with a flick of my loose, curling hair, "Stop looking at me as if I'm meat or I swear, I'll hit you again." Sparrow just grinned in reply. The blood that had coated his teeth 6 hours ago was now long gone; sparkling, gold-capped teeth shone back at me with malicious intent. Dark black seemed to fine me quite amusing. In those rows of crooked, yellow teeth, only one had not been accounted for; a gaping black hole screamed from his lower line of teeth, right at the side of his mouth.

An evidence of my venting anger.

"Well, yer are dressed like one," Barbossa retorted in reply, the grin like a yellow snake across his wrinkled face, "Yer look mighty fine though, lass." The light made him look like an olden-timed ghost, right out of the Christmas Carol. Beside me, Will just stared, voiceless to the world. I decided to ignore him.

"Well, thanks," I nodded my head curtly, drawing my gaze away from the still-leering Sparrow and towards the older man, "I think. Anyway…"

Still ignoring the quiet, impassive Will and the leering form of Sparrow, I edged between the two and turned towards the table before me.

Sitting upon the wooden, rickety table, under the flickering black lantern was a large circle of thick leather. Its edges were jagged and raw, crude cutting leaving the firm hard skin ruined at its fringes. The center of it was fine though; the circle was decorated in fading colours, ink black words written all over its colourful design. It was a piece of art, really. Overlapping circles rounded up to the middle, delicate paintings of ships and licking flames embellishing the narrow strips between the lines. Chinese black calligraphy trailed along the weathered leather, like wisps of smoke dancing into words of a foreign language. In the middle of the circle, in the middle of all the colours and words, was a delicately painted ship, white sails and all. An exact replica reflected in the painted blue of water.

Sweet.

Vintage.

"Cool. Is this it?" I voiced helplessly, eyes studying ever detail of the map. It was pretty cool, actually, for something drawn on an animal's hide. The black lantern almost covered the white-sailed ship, its flickering white glow spreading out on the thick leather in banks of gleam. On either side of me, the pirates kept their silence; Sparrow's grin still winked at the corner of my left eye and Will was nothing more then a shadow. Opposite me, Barbossa cocked a snaky eyebrow.

"Is this what lass?"

"The treasure map," I looked up at him with glowing eyes, the sleep slowly washing away from my mind, "The one that you were all talking about? The one that leads to the Fountain of Youth?" Barbossa nodded his head and began to speak when Sparrow cut him off, leaning closer towards me.

"Aye, lass," his breath reeked of stale rum as he watched me with glinting eyes, "Which brings to de question-why on earth did yer tell bout de fountain to dem, eh, luv?"

"Right. Because you've been so generous to me this whole entire time that I had no reason whatsoever to go against you in any-"

"Alright, alright," Will finally spoke, stepping out of the shadows in a single move, "That's enough squabbling. We have business to attend to, so unless you want to complain about something, Joey, leave us." His voice was cold and hard as he stared down at me, his dark eyes blank and dull-like life had been striped out of him. His coarse tanned skin seemed to pull even more tightly to his skull. A chill poked against my back.

_He thinks I'm a child_, the voice whispered in my head again, prodding against my skull in sharp, relentless jabs, _He thinks I'm too immature_. For a second, the very thought seemed to threaten tears in my sore eyes. Fist clenched in on themselves as I softly rapped against the wooden table. Something stabbed into my heart. With a sharp, vicious snap, I glared as fiercely as I could up at the undead Captain, despite the pangs in my chest.

"I'm not a child you can boss around, _Will_," I spite out his name in vehemence, as if it were poison, "I can do whatever I want. And sitting around, waiting for you three morons to decided on something for 6 hours isn't exactly something I was practically dying to do."

Beside me, Will opened his mouth again but once more, Barbossa pulled us all out of our own little problems.

"Now, dat's enough!" he snapped, spitting out thick rolls of yellow saliva, "Dat's enough out of the three of yer. We've got a treasure to find, and yer lot are wastin' me time-now, lass, if yer going to stay here and create problems among us all, then yer might as well help!" At his shoulder, Jack screamed in agreement.

For a minute or two, Will and I continued our glaring campaign at one another. Silence eluded us at every corner and the shifting, darkened world seemed invisible to us. After a few long minutes, I finally pulled my glare away from him, chest dropping in a heavy sigh.

"Fine," I nodded at Barbossa, at the gleaming golden man directly opposite me, "Show me."

Barbossa said nothing-instead, he reached out a single, gnarled finger and pointed it down onto the hardened leather. Crooked, blue-black fingernails poked into the leather, its edge twisted and worn with age. With another sigh, I followed his disgusting finger-sitting at the end of the twisted nail, in a narrow strip between circles were black words, written in a delicate and beautiful hand. As I stared down at the leather, ignoring the two idiots beside me, the word slowly formed into a definite shape:

_**The Fountain of Youth**_

"Neat," I answered, looking up at the old man as my back leaned helplessly over the wooden table, "Is that all?" The golden light from the shivering candle seemed to wash onto me too. Just beside Sparrow, the window revealing the world was ink black, white-capped waves glowing in the crescent moon's light. Stars littered the dark canopy. Sparrow was silent before it. Beside me, Will's ever-watchful gaze was all to sharp against the nape of my bent neck.

"Nah, lass," Barbossa shook a golden washed face, the rim of his black, flat hat blinking in shivering gold, "De map tells many things. Dis is just one thing it tells, apparently; lookin' down here. See what it reads." In the silenced, thick air, the Captain of the _Black Pearl_ lifted his finger from the map and weighing it just above the coloured skin, he pointed downwards, towards me.

Without another word, I followed his finger; sitting in the same narrow strip between circles as the earlier words, was a sentence, inked in black. It was long, much longer then the one above it-it stretched at least half a circle, wide spaces between the words. As before, the letters were beautifully written, the ink sunk into the leather in gentle, flicking curves. Faded fire licked over the words, sashaying above the strange sentence in a vibrant, dancing orange:

_**Catch It Raw, Catch Eve.**_

It was the strangest sentence I had ever seen. Truthfully. It didn't even make sense. I mean, _Catch it raw, catch Eve?!_ What the hell was I suppose to catch raw?! And Eve…who the hell was Eve?!?!

As I leaned down on the table, the three pirates started to argue again, their voices like fog in a strange dream. Sparrow leaned down beside me, his quirky, witty voice voicing something sarcastic and cynical to Will. Barbossa's voice was like an out-of-tune tuba above my head. Will's was, as usual, strong and smooth, like a soft wind against one's cheeks. Words like _Bible_ and _Bloody Idiot_ flashed across the small circular table.

What did it mean?

My mind churned, the gears grinding against one another as I burned the cursive words into my head:

_Catch it raw, catch eve._

_Catch it raw, catch eve._

_Catch it raw, catch eve._

_Catch It Raw, Catch Eve._

_**Catch It Raw, Catch Eve.**_

And then, it hit me, like a slap to my face

Morons.

With a quick snap of my head, I focused my eyes onto the arguing Barbossa. Excitement seemed to escalate within me, like the climax of a Concerto. My heart began to race.

"Fetch me a paper and pen1"

"What, lass?"

"Paper and pen!!"

Confused silence filled the thick, warm air. Beside me, Will and Sparrow had stopped arguing, their eyes returning their gaze on me. My nails bit into my palms in painful, sharp jabs of electricity. I had something. _I had something!_

"Pen?" Barbossa raised his brown-silver eyebrow in obvious confusion.

"Ink! Ink!"

Silence eluded again.

Unlike the other two, Sparrow caught on quickly.

"Boy!" He yelled at the ratty-looking man with the lighted flint at the end of the room, making his way out of the polished black door, "Yer heard her. Get her some parchment and ink!" His voice was loud, bouncing off the walls in a rapid wave of alcohol-stench. My mind was beginning to whirl in my head, excitement seizing me in its hand. I knew this._ I know this!_

"What's happening?" Will simply asked beside me, his question directed at no one in particular. I didn't care for him. Not right now; instead, I stared down at those words, the clues that led us forward. I knew this. I knew this so well. It was so simple. The whole thing, the sentence, had been nothing more then a puzzle; it was like the map itself, with the spinning circles and changing words. A puzzle. A riddle.

Nothing more.

It seemed like hours before a yellow curled-up parchment was shoved into my hands, along with a large, black-and-white feather with a sharp edge. A bottle of Indian black ink was slammed down onto the table beside my hand, its bottle cap unscrewed. In my hand, the large feather reminded me of the headpieces the Native Americans wore upon their heads, the ones that we saw at that National Heritage Museum two years ago. Dried, black ink scraped along my skin as I rubbed the tip between my thumb and forefinger, eyes wide.

Seriously?!

"Joey?

Without another word, I slammed the hard parchment down onto the shaky wooden table and with a single hand, quickly unrolled it above the map. Coarse brushed against my blood-soaked bandage as I flattened it back, energy jumping in my chest. I could barely control it. Barely. Fingers flew as I tightened my hold of the large feather in my hand and, with passionate speed, dipped the sharp tip into the small black bottle. Drops of black flew onto the hard yellow as I rushed the feather to the top of the page, thin black-and-white hair bobbing up and down with my hand. A coarse, out-of-place strand tickled at my nose.

But I didn't care.

As Will spoke again, in a far-away voice, I scanned the black cursive words above the parchment, the ones etched into the leather. It was so simple.

So simple.

"Joey," Will's voice whispered in my ear as I met the black ink with the parchment, pressing the sharp edge down onto the yellow, "What are you doing?" On my other side, Sparrow's gaze watched me from up above-for some reason, I couldn't help but imagine him with an odd but oh-so-Captain Sparrow smirk on his face, gazing down at me. Opposite me, Jack screamed.

So simple.

"If you guys came to me earlier," I hissed impatiently as I scraped down the quill against the hard paper, my mind chugging as I stared at the black, cursive words above, "If you hadn't been such chauvinistic freaks, we wouldn't have wasted an entire afternoon and evening at all. You bloody idiots."

Hell, I was beginning to speak like them.

My brain flashed between paper and leather as I continue to write, energy bouncing within me like a trapped animal. My fingers squeezed harder around the quill, black ink slowly making out fine words. I knew this. _I know this_.

So simple.

"What…what do you mean? You know what the sentence means?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Nothing," I declared as my eyes widened in excitement, my heart racing beneath my skin as I finished the last letter, "It means nothing."

"Wh…I don't understand."

"Don't you see?" I nodded my head down at the words as I slowly straightened my back, my eyes flashing between the coloured leather and my own newly written words, "The clue wasn't the sentence, Will. It was _in _the sentence. The clue's right there, all along." Black flashed out against dirty yellow. Within me, beneath my very skin, every thing seemed to jump up in excitement.

So simple.

"What?"

"Look," I said and pulled back from my work, ink-dripping-quill still in my hand. All around me, the pirates bent their heads forward, eyes focused on my words. The parchment sat just below the black cursive words of the map, my own letters flashing black in large capital blocks. Dots of ink littered the smooth paper. At the fringe of the parchment, a single, black word screamed out:

_**CIRCE**_.

Silence engulfed us yet again as all eyes stared down onto those letters, all attention focused into that single word. _Circe_. What the hell did that mean? As I stared down at my handiwork, a small measure of pride poked at my side. I solved it. _I solved the goddamn puzzle._

Bloody pirates.

"How the hell did yer get to dat?" Barbossa broke through the still silence, looking up from the map with gleaming, confused cat eyes. Beside me, Sparrow leaned back a little, expertly folding his hands across his chest. Will was still silent.

"It's easy," I answered simply, staring at the old pirate with a slight cock to my eyebrow, "It's the phonetic code."

"De what?"

"The phonetic code-it's the easiest code in the world. In my world, anyway. It's…its just taking the first letter of the each word in the sentence. Can't you see? 'Catch It Raw, Catch Eve…..C…I…R…C…E….Circe." I, of course, pronounced it as 'Cirske'-it was the most reasonable way to pronounce the strange word anyway. After all, I had never seen it before, not ever. It was the oddest word I had ever come upon. Yet, somehow, Sparrow knew it perfectly well-as Barbossa opened his mouth to shoot another question towards me, eyes flashing and monkey gnawing, Sparrow's voice rumbled by in a whisper.

"Sir-see."

"What?" I snapped my head away from the light, turning around to look at the man with wide eyes, "What did you say?" Beside me, in the shadow of the new night, Sparrow seemed to have melted away; in those few minutes I had since last paid any attention to him, a sudden emotion had engulfed him. It glazed over his eyes in a blank, far-away stare, a strange white fire dancing in his dark eyes. His face had gone completely still, completely blank of any emotions. Dried blood still clotted in his beard-the lantern's light partially washed over his still, thinking form and not for the first time, I saw that he was handsome.

It was as if something had taken him away from this world, leaving his body but a cold, empty shell.

Something jumped in my chest.

"Sir-see," he said again, slowly pulling himself back into the world again, the fire fading away into those dark pools, "Dat name. On yer paper. It's said as Sir-see." Beside me, Will shuffled softly.

"Sir-see…" he repeated Sparrow cautiously, rolling the sound of the word over his tongue as he leaned back slowly, "She…."

"She's the one?" Barbossa voiced out in his harsh, rumbling tone, "She's the way to de Fountain?!" At his shoulder, little Jack had gone oddly quiet.

What the hell were they talking about?

"Apparently so…" Will's voice trailed beside me, his voice as far away as Sparrow. Turning towards him, I saw that he too was thinking; his eyes were whirling with thoughts, his brows creasing together as he pondered at length. A dark brown curl shouldered out of place above his ear and I ached to reach forward and perfect it. Dark eyes stared down at my words without actually seeing, the gears grinding away in his brain. Black eyelashes fluttered slowly. Opposite him, Barbossa grumbled again.

"Well, that's just bloody nonsense! Circe? Of all things?"

"Well, its not that hard to believe, once you think about it," Sparrow had snapped out of his dream by now, his dark black eyes staring at his former first-mate with a slight shiver of humour, "After all, de Fountain _is_ pretty much part of her specialty….Aye, savvy. It would only make sense."

"But of all people…." Will shook his head, curls shaking, "Circe isn't exactly-"

"Easy! She ain't exactly easy! Nome, sir….not easy! Bloody hell…when I signed off for dis expenditure, Mister Turner, I dint expect _Circe_!"

"Well, neither did I, Barbossa! So, quit complaining and lets just all focus on the this-"

"Dat is, of course, sayin' dat we can even talk to her. After all, dis is _Circe_ we are all talking about. She's a hell worse then her mother, and yer know it."

"Well, what do you expect to do then, Jack? Forget about this whole thing? Let me tell you, I am not about to-"

"Wait!" I cut through the noise of the three men, waving the quill still tucked in my hand, "Wait. Who the _hell_ is Circe?!"

It was as if, in those few long minutes after my answer to the riddle, the three morons had completely forgotten my existence. Even Will. Now, standing in the middle of them all, the three oh-so-different pirates looked over at me as if seeing me for the first time. Warm air circled around us like a tight, comforting circle. Somewhere, in the background, Scarlett and Jared exchanged a laugh, oblivious to the world around them. Brows furrowed and the monkey screamed, yet again. Shadows pressed down from all around.

Will's heat was like dire water to my skin.

"Well?!"

"Circe? Aye, lass, yer don't know? Why, she's Calypso's daughter."

**End of Chapter 20**

**Sorry to leave it in a semi-cliff-hanger! As for this new name, I shall explain the history behind my choice of name in the next chapter. Furthermore, I would like to credit the design of Joey's new outfit to an image I saw from _a website._**

**It is definitely not my own design.**

**Anyway, I would to dedicate this chapter to Hans Christian Andersen. I finished this chapter on the 205****th**** anniversary of his birth and even though it doesn't really make any sense, I just wish to honour the guy in my own little way. I mean, c'mon, he gave us the Little Mermaid!**

**So yea...**

**Please review and look out for the next chapter! Thanks!**

**XOXO**


	22. Bonding time with Sparrow

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC character, only my OCs . Although, I would definitely love to have claim credit for Sparrow myself.**

**Thanks for your reviews and please enjoy this one. All I can promise is that the future chapters promise more action and definitely more mysteries to solve. This chapter might be a little boring but its just to feel in the gap-I'm trying to make the story flow more smoothly. Please leave any comments on how you think the story plot is going so far! THANKS!!!**

"So, let me get this straight…" I let my voice trail as I studied the chipped cuts of paper in my hand, the colours of red and black flashing across my mind, "This…Circe…is the daughter of Calypso?" The word felt so strange on my tongue, smooth as velvet yet completely foreign, alien.

Almost like I was speaking a different language.

Sitting cross-legged opposite me on the deck, black dreadlocks shivering slightly against cloth was Captain Jack Sparrow, his charcoal eyes completely concentrated on the scraps of paper in his rough hands. Gnarled, unkempt nails shielded the back of the flipping yellow, his knuckles blue-black and coarse. Just above it, his beaded black goatee trembled against the frail cold breeze, hitting one another like wind chimes. His old gnarly hat sat in his wide lap.

"Dude?"

"Aye, luv, aye," Sparrow finally croaked out in reply, his dark eyebrows dipping down into a full-blown frown as he kept his study on the papers, "Dat is what she is. Didn't yer pay any attention to us de other day?"

"I'm sorry. I got lost at the part where _your compass doesn't point north._"

Opposite me, Sparrow just sighed in response.

It has been like this with him, since that day on the _Black Pearl_. Since that day I solved a puzzle that took them hours to argue over, a puzzle even a baby could figure out. Since that day I spelt out the word _Circe_.

Circe.

Who are you?

It has been four days yet here I was, yet again, urging Sparrow on to tell me a little more. A little bit more about what we will be facing eventually. About Circe-but the man, who had been mum about those little details was mute again, ending my attempts with a disinterested air. His dark, dark eyes kept to his game as he shook off my questions, trinkets twinkling and singing. At his head, falling down from his red bandana in a single straight line was an odd little medallion. The grey of the morning seemed to bleach out his features in a gloom.

Circe.

Who are you?

Taking in a deep breath of rain-scented air, I tried again.

"Circe…" I breathed as casually as I could, looking down onto my scraps of paper in mock interest, "So I suppose she's a goddess then? Like her…like her mother?" Somewhere behind me, up on the wooden helm of _Betty_, Scarlett let out a joyous, melodious trill of laughter. Thunder boomed far away.

In front of me, Sparrow sighed again.

"Nah," he shook his head firmly as his dark eyes remained on the pieces of paper, muscles tensing in concentration, "Circe ain't a goddess. Yer got a five mermaids there, love?"

With a matching, deep sigh, I looked down at my own scraps of paper. In my hands, the dirty parchments were inked in crudely drawn shapes, black and red popping at random among the pile-a black eight squids there, two red Davy Jones over here and a lucky red compass all the way at the end.

But no.

No mermaid.

I hate this game.

"Sorry, no," I answered curtly, drawing my eyes back up to the famous pirate, "Look, could you explain a little more? About Circe?"

It was to those words that Sparrow finally looked up at me-black dreadlocks whipped and jingled as his head rose, his lips puckered out in question. His beautiful dark eyes refocused themselves on me. All around us, the icy cold gale of the after-rain sang in a slow, mournful tune, licking my bare shoulders in a beg for forgiveness. My dark blonde hair shivered in its ponytail.

It was on days like this that I treasured the unpredictable nature of the sea.

You never knew when a cooling rainfall might just smite away the burning heat.

"I thought ye said ye were goin' to shut up, once we started playin'."

"Right," I rolled my eyes with a sigh, tightening my grip of the scraps of paper as my irritation level slowly spiked, "Like I've ever listened to anything you ever said." Behind me, farther up on the ship, Jared's deep, throaty laughter mingled with Scarlett's sweet one, becoming but one. Shouts and orders buzzed and hummed to my left, not too far away-the noises of the newly eased crews of the _Black Pearl_ and _Flying Dutchman_. The damp seemed to sink into my bones.

"I told yer," Sparrow leaned forward, rocking on his folded legs as he half-glared his dark eyes at me, "I told yer dat if ye and yer little friends wanted to come aboard me ship, yer got to shut up. Got any three sharks?"

"No, only twos….and _I_ told _you_ that I don't take orders from people who tried to _kill_ me! Now, are you going to tell me anything about Circe or not?"

"No," Sparrow answered simply, retreating those dark eyes of his back down onto his papers as the wind threatened to flutter them loose, "No. Yer have to be patient and wait, like a good little girl. Now, how bout yer? Ye got any three sharks?"

Before I could even say another word, Sparrow's attention was lost to me. With a quick, fervent look at his flapping pieces of paper and a complete ignorance of me, the tall man reverted his eyes down onto the third player of this insane game; squatting upon the blackened wood of the deck of _Betty_, his tail whipping in the soft wind and his own papers fluttering was none other then the _Black Pearl's _resident pet, Jack. Jack the monkey-not the idiot before me.

He sat triangular to us, his little apian butt flat down on hard, wet wood. The whooshing, smooth wind had flattened his matted fur, squashing the black and white down to seem as if it were perfect marble. Wisps of graying black frayed away at the flattened edges. As it always was with the little monkey, Jack wore his adorable red vest, scarf and all. His coiling black tail twiddled idly above his small head as he studied the cuts of paper in his hairy hands, beady black eyes hard and cold. Below his odd nose, white teeth glinted as he licked his furry lips with a small pink tongue.

And he was winning.

With a small, apian cry, Little Jack fiddled around with his papers and then with a gaping, white-lined mouth, handed a crudely cut piece of parchment to Sparrow. In front of me, dreadlocks still whipping, the tanned pirate's lips cracked in a nervous smile as he reached out two fingers and pinched the paper out of the monkey's paw. A quick murmur of 'Thank You' was followed by a fast retreat of his hand.

I was beginning to think that Sparrow had a fear of monkeys or something.

Then again, Little Jack didn't seem like your ordinary monkey.

"I'm not a little girl," I sourly sulked in reply as I shuffled the papers in my hand, the trills of my brother's and Scarlett's laughter clouding the back of my mind in a fog. Somewhere in the distant, all the way to my left, I could hear Will's shout among the voices.

For some reason, I could know his voice anywhere.

"So, why are yer here anyway, luv?" Sparrow spoke smoothly as he fitted the scrap of paper into his pile, wind fluttering them against his hand, "Why can't ye and yer lot just stay over at Will's?" He made it sound like all three ships were some kind of college dorm rooms , and that Jared, Scarlett and I were just hopping around, visiting friends at the three different rooms. Like some college weekend-in or something.

Wow.

College.

When was the last time I even thought about that?

"Oi, love," Sparrow snapped impatient fingers right in front of my eyes, leaning forward on his folded legs, "You're daydreaming. Again." His handsome tanned face was frowning hard at me, his black eyes zapping at my face like ferocious stabs. The papers wavered in his tight grasp. Beside us, low to the ground, Little Jack screeched an impatient howl.

"See? Even de monkey is sick n' tired of waitin' for yer."

"Oh, shut up," I rolled my eyes again, sighing heavenward- Up above, the sky was a hazy gray, wisps of black clouds stretching across the gloomy sky in brush-thin streaks. It was quite lovely, really; there seemed to be no limit, no distinction between the sky and the world as the grey of the heavens blended perfectly with the eerie steel blue of the lapping waves. Frigid silver-white wind pushed away the remnants of the passing storm. In the distance, far in the horizon, black-churning clouds faded away across the sea.

Sparrow's voice brought me back to world, again.

"Speaking of Will-"

"We weren't," I bit curtly as I glared back at Sparrow, my hands dropping back down to my lap. Directly opposite me, Sparrow had returned his oh-so-focused attention back onto his game, his black eyes darting through his ragged pile of old paper. Little Jack's tail swiped through the air. Somewhere behind me, Jared and Scarlett were laughing again.

"Well, since yer didn't want to answer my question on the reason why ye and yer little lot are here, I am now changing the subject. So-what's going on with Will and yer?"

"Nothing," I bit down savagely, glaring through the small space between us in as much confidence and ferocity I could muster, "Nothing's going on between us. Now shut up and draw." Beside me, Little Jack nodded his little head between us, following the trail of our conversation with his beady black eyes. Quite adorable, if you ask me. Opposite me, Sparrow cocked a single eyebrow, ignoring my call for the drawing of the game.

"Didn't seem like nothing."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"Exactly what it means, luv. I ain't an idiot-he looks at yer, yer look at him, ye two argue more then an old married couple….its not dat hard to dot two and two together, especially if dat two and two pieces are meant to be more den just de two and two. After all, twos and twos are always meant to become ones and ones and eventually-"

"Ok, stop talking!" I cut him off with a loud yell, my voice slicing through the damp, cool air like a knife through butter as my brows bent downwards in open irritation, "Just stop, alright! I get it! You think something's going on between Will and I."

"I know it."

Without another word, I groaned out helplessly-Sparrow was not only confusing. He was also irritating as hell. Burning, spite-fire hell.

The toasty kind.

Little Jack screamed in impatience.

"Look," I swallowed back my groan, replacing it with a gritty, unnerving voice, "The day you tell me about Circe, I tell you everything about Will and I. Its only fair." Across the small space between us, upon the dank deck, Sparrow and I locked gazes. My eyes clashed against his own. Bronze and deep black. Trying-to-be-confident and sneaky-and-full-of-evil-intent. A girl from the future and a ratty-ass pirate.

Somehow, in those black orbs, I managed to see my own face peeking back.

"Fine," Sparrow shrugged finally, his black eyes tearing away from me to stare back down at his scraps of paper, "It is fair." That surprised me. A lot. As I gulped back saliva, still stunned at the fact that he just _left it alone_, Sparrow's slurry voice purred again.

"Anyway, before we draw, yer two reckon a wager?"

"Wager?" I cocked an eyebrow as Jack just stared up at Sparrow with those cute, little eyes. For a monkey, he was pretty smart. Creepy smart. The wind kissed against my bare shoulders like a lover's embrace, comforting and kind. Mr. Gibbs' voice called down towards us, his voice lost in the icy gale.

Opposite me, Sparrow didn't answer immediately. With a twist of his thin lips and a spark growing in his black, youthful eyes, he reached behind his slouching back and pulled something back towards us, towards our little gambling den upon the deck. Glass _pinged_ against wood; it was a bottle of rum, half-full of sloshing red. Green tinged glass gleamed faintly against the pale day, the silver face of the faded sun smiling in reflection. The cork of the bottle had been already unscrewed.

"There!" Sparrow slammed down the bottle with a wicked, excited grin cracking across his handsome face, "What yer say to that, eh luv? Winner takes de prize?" Jack did a little dance in reply. I just cocked a single eyebrow.

"Really? A bottle of rum? That's it?"

"De last bottle, luv," he pointed with his swaying fingers as his eyes widened with thrill, the silly yellow grin slaying across his beaming face, "De last bottle in de entire ship. What yer say, eh savvy?"

There were a lot of things I wanted to say to Captain Jack Sparrow but now, in the midst of a simple game of his own concoction, with the man himself and a itty bitty monkey, I just wasn't in a mood. I mean, don't get me wrong. I would love that bottle of rum. You see, supplies had been running low on the mortal ships over the past few days, the _Flying Dutchman_ being the only ship left with a proper quantity of rum in its belly. It was an immortal ship, after all-I supposed it never ran out of supplies.

But the other two ships did and now, the black crowning glory that was the _Black Pearl_ and the battle-stained, weary might of the_ Betty _was verging on the ledge down towards starvation. Little food, little water and definitely, _most definitely_, no rum.

No rum for pirates.

No rum for me.

I suppose a little extra, besides Lestrade's own offers at dinner, could do me some little well.

Laughter pierced through the fog of my white castle in the air-I snapped my head around, searching for the source of the intrusion until at last, I saw them.

Trailing down the helm's steps, faces bright in apparent amusement was Jared and Scarlett, dressed in their casual sailors as usual. My brother and the strange, petite Lady from England who could never get my name right. My twin and the Redhead. My family and the one whose father now trailed after us like a hound dog caught on a scent-what scent it was, I had no idea.

Sitting there, staring up at the approaching couple as I squashed my game cards in my hand, I couldn't help but feel the slightest pinch of envy.

Just the slightest.

_There they go_, my mind murmured, my lungs unconsciously heaving out deep, deep sighs, _Happy and laughing. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Laughing, I mean….when was the last time I laughed? The last time I looked at someone like that, with a glow in my face and with a fiery spark in my eyes? The last time I held someone's hand so tightly-_

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

……

WHAT?!?!

"They're holding hands!" I blurted out, to no one in particular as my eyes kept on them, "Holding hands!"

"Yes," Sparrow sounded the slightest bit bored as he droned on , his face blind to me as I focused all of my attention on the giggling, approaching couple, "It's quite common among young lovers."

"They're not lovers!" I practically shouted as I whipped my head back around, glaring at Sparrow's grinning face with sharp, blood-tipped daggers, "Absolutely not! No way! Not Jared! Not my brother and…and…."

The thought.

THE VERY THOUGHT!!!

I mean, of course I knew about Scarlett's feelings for my brother. It was only too obvious-even morons could see through her shy attempts of getting close to him, at her repetitive tries to stay by his side at all times. Like his freaking shadow, I tell you. It was only too obvious. And my brother….well, Jared and I have never been close. Never. Yet, even _I _could see his affection for the oh-so-proper Red head. His undying, never-wavering attention to her….

What if they really were lovers?! What if my brother and the crazy, polite Scarlett were actually getting it-

…..

Ew.

I did not just think that.

Sparrow's voice brought me back to the present-or something like that.

"Leave them alone and turn on back, luv. We have a game to go. Yer ready?

With a last, furtive look at the laughing couple, the pale sun bright in the face, I returned my attention back to the game, my heart stomping within my chest. Why hadn't I seen this before? HOW THE HELL DID I MISS THIS?!?!

As my mind churned, trying to block out their trilling, humorous laughter as my heart squeezed in on itself in a unreadable emotion, Sparrow had continue on with the game. Before me, in the daze of my thoughts, he had proceeded to splay out the scraps of paper down by his feet, like a hand of cards upon the table. Black and red flashed out against the dirty yellows in different shapes, rough and poorly drawn. Numbers, in a thick black and red, scared the rough pieces at the very top. Above them, hands held them down to the wood as the wind tried to free them.

"Scar face, yer turn."

In a blind fog, my mind still tuned towards the approaching couple, I played my own papers down, face up. The wind tried to pick them up. Opposite me, Sparrow chuckled in response, clearly delighted-I didn't care. All that mattered right now was the fact that my brother had his _hand_ entwined with Scarlett's.

What the hell was I so jumpy for? Back home, Jared always went on dates. Always. Every week was some new, unsuspecting, pretty girl on his arms, her glossy hair held up in a high ponytail. Most of the time, they wore cheerleading outfits or sports shirts-never anyone else. So, you see. My brother dated a lot. This shouldn't be so bad.

I didn't date, of course.

I only make out.

Then, why the hell was I getting so worked up about this???

_Maybe because I don't even know my own twin._

A monkey's excited shrill drew back to the game before me. Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I cleared the fog before my eyes, tuned out the world around me and focused my attention back onto the play.

I wanted the last bottle.

Sparrow now sat before me in utter silence, his tanned handsome face drawn down in open horror and disbelief. Deep, black orbs widened to an unbelievable size as his jaw dropped, his knuckled-scarred lips parting in astonishment. It was as if his entire body had frozen itself, still on the rocking, cold deck.

"What is it?"

Sparrow just pointed.

Triangular to us both, Little Jack hopped excitedly in his place, his little mouth opening and closing in excitement. White sharp teeth glinted in the grey gloom as his tail twisted about behind him, cutting through the thin air in quick, excited jerks. His furry short hands held on to his papers as he hopped on his back legs, his protruding tummy bouncing about in this apparent joy. Something jingled at his red vest as his screams sliced through the frigid, howling air. Soft _thumps_ echoed beneath his jumping.

"What happened?"

Sparrow didn't have to explain.

Before I could say another word, Little Jack reached forward a little monkey paw and grabbed the rum-full bottle by its neck, drawing it towards him. Red liquid sloshed away as it was dragged across the floorboards, bumping along the crooks. Little Jack didn't even wait-under our disbelieving eyes, he tilted the open green bottle backward and poured a generous amount of sweet rum down his little mouth. Sloshes of red rum spilled across his flattened fur and red vest, trailing to the wooden deck in a haphazard mess. Little white teeth grinned as he drank.

Oh my God.

We just lost to a monkey.

Across the space between us, the world forgotten, Sparrow and I exchanged hard stares.

We knew what had to be done.

* * *

Don't ask me how it happened.

All I can say is that it ended up with torn clothes, additional scratches, bite marks up my arm and a ear-lashing from Barbossa that was worse then the pain of all of my battle wounds combined

The only good thing was that Sparrow received the same, first-class treatment.

Leaning against the banister beside me, sulking like a child, Sparrow watched the other adults argue among themselves in their tight circle, arms flying and voices loud. It was like a TV show really. You know, like on House M.D, when the doctors start to argue about which treatment is better for the patient. Or like Ugly Betty, when Daniel and Wilhelmina take on one another with charging, sharpened horns.

Hell, it was even a little like Star Wars; the parts where the Jedis, the members of the Council started to argue and fight over pressing issues that plague the entire system.

That is if the Jedis would ever go around unwashed and uncombed, spitting dirty saliva as they waved thin, non-glowing rapiers in their hands. That is if the Jedis would ever speak so rudely or act so goddamn barbarian.

Yea.

Jedis are pretty high up in my scale of fan-ability.

Pirates…not so much.

"It's bloody nonsense, I tell yer," Sparrow mumbled unhappily as he stared with the sulkiest, pouting eyes at the noisy, arguing crew, "Bloody nonsense." On the other side of him, his trusty first mate Mr. Gibbs shook his chubby, beet-red face in reply.

"Aye, captain. I suppose it is. But dey've got a point."

"Nah, dey don't. Dey're just wasting time. Again. We should be heading off to Circe's…."

"Oh come on, Jack!" Jared sighed away beside me, running a tanned hand through his thick head of hair as he leaned casually back against the black banister as well, "We have to stop. Otherwise, we all can't make it to this Circe's place in one piece. You know that, of all people." In the pale, faded sun, his handsome face seemed bleached out of any colour, the glorious tan he had gotten over these past few weeks dissipating in the grey gloom. Instead, now, his skin seemed to take on a weird, ashen colour, like the skin of the dead.

Then again, I could be just seeing things.

The monkey probably gave me rabies.

Beside him, sitting demurely on the helm's steps, Scarlett watched the circle of arguing pirates in deep concentration. Her skin was even a more sickly white. To my right, Sparrow leaned more heavily against the black railing.

"I guess we have no choice, den," he seemed genuinely upset as his chest heaved in a deep sigh, his kohl-rimmed eyes watching the squabbling men in outright displeasure, "We've got to port…Dis is all so inconvenient. Tell me why I decided to bring them all along again, Gibbs?"

"Well, Jack, yer didn't have much of a choice remember? Barbossa pulled a gun to yer."

"Ah, yes. Yes, I remember…still….he's not pointing de gun now, is he Mr. Gibbs?"

"Well….aye. Aye, dat's true. But remember Jack, before yer try anything, its just de two of us against the whole lot of dem. Not much of fair fight, eh captain?"

"Aye, not much indeed."

"I'll join your side," I volunteered, raising my hand and cracking an mock-innocent smile across my sore face, "If you ask politely, that is." Beside me, Sparrow turned a screwed, sneering face, his dark eyes staring as hard and fierce as sharp daggers.

"Aye," he sighed as he looked at me with something verging more on disgust, "A little girl on me side. I feel so much better now."

I just rolled my eyes-some people are just not worth my breath. Such as Sparrow. Without another word, I turned away from the annoying pirate and back towards the noisy, arguing group in the center of the black deck; the familiar faces of Will and Bootstrap argued in the small circle, voices high and loud above the soft crashing waves. Lestrade's shadow engulfed them in an even colder spot as the large man mostly kept his silence, butting in quick remarks to help out his own captain. Up at the _Black Pearl's_ bow, an ominous black shadow in the grey, stood the towering form of Captain Barbossa, spit firing out of his mouth as he raged down upon the small group of arguing men. In the cold, icy wind, his voice was like the loud cracking wood, as if someone had taken an axe and began cutting it into the sides of the precious black ship. Dark sails stretched across the colourless sky in fleeting, wavering shadows.

As I stared forward, becoming one of the many other pirates that stared at the arguing group too, trying to comprehend, Scarlett's voice sang a simple question.

"Mr. Sparrow? Can I ask a question?"

"_Captain_ Sparrow, lass. What is it?"

I tried to block off their nearby voices as I concentrated on the group at the bow. Words such as _supplies_ and _pretend_ drifted from their mingled shouts in sharp, blood-tipped jabs. Nevertheless, I was still distracted.

"My father…are you sure it's him that's after us now?"

"Aye, lass," Sparrow's voice rumbled beside me as he looked past my face, staring his dark eyes at the pretty redhead at the stairs, "I'm pretty sure. I mean, not everyone goes blowing holes in me ship and proclaimin' I've stolen his child. Besides, he had dis really big white head…."

"Yup!" I nodded my head as I snapped my attention back to them, cracking a simple smile, "That sounds like Errol." Scarlett gave a cold, hard glare in reply. Up ahead, at the bow, Will was shaking his head at the other pirates as he practically screamed, "No!". Barbossa shot back something with his rude, curt voice.

"Anyway," Scarlett sighed heavily as she finally pulled her glare off me, tilting her legs on her steps in a sweet, lady-like manner, "I just wanted to make sure it was him. I mean, why would my father go after _you_? You weren't the one who kidnapped me-he couldn't possibly know that I have escaped, less he had some kind of ruffian connection."

"My guess is, lass, he does."

"Nah," I waved off Sparrow's remark as I rolled my eyes again, "It's just the ship, idiot. Use your brain-someone must have told big old Daddy'o that his little girl was taken by the ship called _Betty_. They're chasing the ship, not them. Right, Sparrow?"

"Sometimes, the difference between yer retarded, squared face and yer actual intelligence is quite remarkable."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Now, if you don't mind me asking-"

"JOEY!" A hoarse, thick voice sliced through the thin air, cutting off me mid-sentence, "Get over here!"

It was Barbossa, his yellow cat eyes glaring furiously at me as he stood at the highest part of the bow, like a leader standing before his warring people. The icy gale threatened to rip the blue feather off his black knit hat as he just stood there, the echo of his words ringing throughout the open sea in great waves. Just below him, forming a circle, Will, Bootstrap and Lestrade were watching me now as well, eyes silent and faces playing different emotions. Nevertheless, it was all the same-everyone's attention was on me now.

"What?"

"Get here!"

Swearing under my breath, I pulled myself with effort off the black railing and trudged across the black wood, heading for the bow. I didn't know if the others had followed me and I didn't care-I suddenly had this deep, gut-twisting feeling that I was going to be a scapegoat. After all, these damn pirates didn't care a hair's breath for me. Especially not Sparrow.

As I moved along the deck, all eyes on me, my roving eyes caught something running at the side; Little Jack ran his away atop the black banister, his dark tail whipping in the cold air as paws thudded against wood in haste. He was like a black flash, a blur of quick apian speed as he gathered his strength and, with delicate grace, pounced off the wood and onto his master's shoulder. A high-pitched scream followed upon his descent onto Barbossa's shoulder, like a cold, maniac laughter. Beady eyes stared directly at me as I continued onward.

_Oh fuck_.

Before I could control myself, a flinch of paranoia jabbed its way into me; this is stupid, being afraid of an itty-bitty monkey. After all, I had just been in a casual game with him not half hour again.

Then again, he did try to bite my arm off when I took away that rum from him.

"Ok," I gulped back a swat of salvia as I finally stopped in front of the small circle of pirates, all eyes trained unnervingly on me, "What the hell do you lot want?" Soft footsteps followed behind me, like the padding of feet against the sand-almost inaudible. Before me, up on the bow, Little Jack smiled an evil grin.

"Lass, I need yer to do something, "

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" I grimaced helplessly at the tall pirate at the bow, the monkey gaping at his shoulder. By his head, standing a step down, Lestrade's face was a stoic stone, his skin an uncharacteristic pale in the graying light. Thin lips were pulled in a rigid, straight line.

"Most probably not," Lestrade's voice was smooth as he spoke, his blue eyes calm and serene as the sea around us, "But it's not going to be dat hard either."

"Matter of opinion, really. Anyway, what is it?"

"We need supplies, lass," Barbossa said simply as he stared down at me with sharp yellow eyes, "We're running fresh out. Me men and I have little left to last us a week and if we ever plan on getting' to Circe, we need more den what we have." All around us, the wind kicked again, in a renewed, freshly energised speed. I sighed a deep heavy breath.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"They want yer to go and get them supplies," Bootstrap spoke now, his voice as wet and raspy as it usual was, "They want you to be their courier." Standing near the center of the small group of pirates, Bootstrap was a sulking, black figure, his cold, dead eyes watching me without the slightest bit of emotion. His black eyes were red-rimmed; for the first time, I couldn't help but liken Bootstrap to a scaly, wet fish.

If fishes had leech-black hair and an evil, evil glare.

"Courier?" I cocked a single eyebrow as I stared at the small group before me, trying very hard to ignore the approaching footsteps behind me, "Courier for what exactly?" In front of me, bright annoyance flashed across Barbossa's tanned face.

"Do yer ever listen, lass?" He grunted in a sour expression at me, yellow eyes slowly being consumed by the shadow of his hat, "Supplies. Yer going to help bring supplies back." At his shoulder, Little Jack nodded his head, as if agreeing to his master's irritation. Just below him, by the short flight of steps, Will watched me without a single word; it took my every strength in my body to not even look at him. The scar on my face was beginning to itch again.

"Well, that's stupid," I folded my arms across my chest as I matched Barbossa's annoyed glare with my own, "Why the hell do _I_ have to do this? Don't you lot have other people to boss around? Like, I don't know…. Sparrow?"

"De port of Isle de Sands is heavi'ly guarded," was Barbossa's only reply as he continued his glare, a gnarly, old finger mindlessly stroking the fur of Little Jack on his shoulder, "Perhaps more so den Port Royal. It's not de safest bet to port there obviously, especially since de navy is looking out for dat young lass and all. Someone could recognize her." The wind, for some reason, was getting colder again.

Before I could snap something in reply, skin contact made me jump a little; a long, muscular arm draped around my neck, pulling me close. Hot skin burned into my icy shoulders as I was dragged across the black floorboards in a single motion, colliding into a tall, hard form. Bronze curls banged against a sweaty, shirt-covered chest, entangling helplessly into some black dreadlocks; it was Sparrow, his long arm pulling me towards him in a tight hug. Cold seem to evaporate from my body.

"I suggest we dump de Redhead instead," Sparrow grinned his infuriating smile as he gazed up at the older pirate, pressing me closer towards his still body, "Get de navy of our trail, eh savvy?" In his grasp, everything felt hot and sweaty-for a few seconds, I struggled in his hold, pushing against his firm chest. Muscles strained but the man holding me was definitely stronger then he looked. Besides, he was kind of warm. Somewhere behind us, Jared made a sharp sound of protest.

Is it weird that he had just called Scarlett by the same nickname I always use for her?

"Don't be an idiot!" I growled in reply as I finally stopped struggling, leaning towards my fate as Barbossa's jaw dropped to speak, "It wouldn't matter if we dumped Scarlett or not. Her father is still going to come after us in revenge-I've met him before, remember? He doesn't suit well with pirates. He's going to want you dead, moron."

"Ah, thinkin' like a pirate, now are yer luv? Shall yer be my little protégé? My young student-"

"Dream on! I'm not a pirate, and will never b-"

"Fine. Then, just be me girl for de night, eh? It's get real lonely on de ship with just dat Gibbs fer compan'. What-"

"That's it! I've had it up to here with y-"

"In the name of Calypso, stop it!" Barbossa's voice cut through our little banter with a sharp, irritated tone, his yellow cat eyes glaring down at us as if we were nothing more then specks of dust, "Stop it already! First de monkey, now this…seriously Jack! One would think dat yer would have grown out of it already!"

"Aye, but one is never too old, eh savvy?"

In response, Barbossa just sighed, running a weary hand over his weathered, hard face. Little Jack let out another scream. In the small circle in front of us, the three pirates kept their silence. Lestrade was still as stoic as before while beside him, Bootstrap kept his sulk. I refused to even look at Will. Sparrow's hold tightened around me like a noose around my neck.

His warm did much to dissipate the cold of the damp wind.

"Look," Barbossa finally spoke again, removing his hand to glare the same, irritated eyes at us again, " Yer de only one of us, lass, who can pull of lookin' as normal as anyone else. I mean, Miss. Errol is out of de question altogether. And yer brother could do as well, only yer more likely to waggle for de best price from de market stalls then he is, with yer silver tongue and all. Yer our best bet, lass."

Struggling slightly out of Sparrow's hold, I gasp out in quick breaths.

"Don't be ridiculous," I frowned at the older pirate, pulling curls out of sweaty black dreadlocks, "I'm wearing pants. It's a dead giveaway-they're going to know I'm a pirate."

"Ah, yer finally admit it! Yer finally admit dat yer a pirate!"

"Shut up, Sparrow! I'm not! Now, let me go before-"

"You can borrow my dress, Joanna," Scarlett's sweet voice echoed from behind like the trill of bells, drawing everyone's attention, "The pink one. I just washed it the other day. I'm sure you could fit into it." Up ahead, Barbossa nodded in agreement, satisfaction slowly seeping into his features-I couldn't turn my head, not with Sparrow holding me like that. I swear, if he wasn't so goddamn filthy, I would totally bite him.

Which reminds me-after this little hug, I need to go and bathe.

For hours.

"Please, redhead," I sourly answered in reply, feeling stupid for staring at Barbossa while talking away to Scarlett behind me, "You're the tiniest thing. I couldn't possibly fit into that dress."

"Yer just have to try," Bootstrap nodded his head behind me before turning his cold, wet gaze in my direction, "Yer got to. De others need dat supply." The cold wind bustled against my warmed skin in an attempt to chill me up again. Beneath my loose shirt, under Sparrow's grasp, my stomach rumbled in impatience, waiting for lunch.

_Sigh_.

I hate missing lunch.

"Fine," I finally sighed, ending the ongoing chatter up front as all eyes turned towards me again, "I'll do it." Arms tightened around me-I'm beginning to think that Sparrow was just trying to feel me up. Ahead, above on the highest step of the bow, Barbossa flashed gold-yellow teeth down at me with satisfaction.

Somehow, I had this feeling that I was going to regret this.

I already don't like it.

"Good girl, lass. Now, here's de plan-"

"If Joey's going, then so am I!" Will's voice cut through the crisp, damp air like knife through butter, his dark brown eyes glaring upwards at Barbossa as his cheeks flushed red. He clearly didn't like this plan at all. Standing there, still in Sparrow's grasp, I felt my heart jump about in my chest. WHY THE HELL DID HE HAVE TO SAY THAT?! Up above, Barbossa glared back down, opening his mouth to snap something back when I cut him off again, fighting against strong arms.

"NO-WAY," I said simply, separating the two words as I glared as hatefully as I could at Will, drawing his eyes back onto me, "I'm not going anywhere with you!" Behind me, pressed against my head, Sparrow gave a deep, throaty chuckle. A seagull above gave out a final scream before crashing down into the waves around us. The wind tried to separate Sparrow and I.

Up ahead, in the midst of the small circle and under the gloom of Lestrade's shadow, Will matched my glare with his own. He was dressed, perhaps, more formal today-thick, luscious brown hair had been pulled back into a small ponytail, a tiny dog tail of curly brown against his neck. Strands of brown framed his face yet again, though perhaps they were neater today then any other day. At his chest, the gold medallion glinted-he wore his maroon shirt again, with the low, deep-cut collar that exposed most of his chest. This time, though, he had worn a long, brown coat over his clothes, its leather tail hitting hard against his shins in the wavering icy wind. A satchel of brown was strapped across his lithe frame.

As usual, the man was endearingly handsome.

Enough to make me hate him.

"I'm going with you," Will spoke firmly as he matched my glare with a stare of utter determination and confidence, "No questions about it. The last thing I'm going to do is send _you_, all alone, to an unknown, new place. I won't have it." He said it like it had been the simplest thing in the world.

Strikes of pure rage began to seize me as I frowned even more and opened my mouth to snap back ferociously. I was that mad. However, Sparrow cut me off with another pull of my body towards him.

"Oh, hush, yer whelp," Sparrow grinned his disgusting, gold teeth as he pulled my neck towards him even more, banging my head against his wide chest, "Yer don't worry. I'll go with the luv. With me, she'll be fine."

I really wanted to murder someone right now and honestly, I don't care whom.

In front of us, in midst of the small circle, Will looked like he was about to kill someone too.

"_Get your hands off her_!"

"Oh, and why's that, eh savvy? She ain't yer girl, no?"

"You're not coming with us, Jack! End of story! Now take your grimy paws of my-"

"Yer can do better den just yell at me, lad, surely. What yer say to a duel, den? Winner goes with de girl?"

"I'm not dueling with you! Now stop touching-"

"_Neither_ of you are going with me!! Alright?!?! If I'm going to do this, then I sure as hell am not doing it with both of you! Especially you, Will!"

"I've already said it, Joey. I'm going with you. No arguments."

"No arg-…I AM ARGUING NOW, YOU ASSHOLE!! YOU'RE NOT COMING WITH ME!!!"

"_Yes, I am_! If you think for a second that I am going to let you out of my sight-"

"I can look after her, lad. Look after her real good."

"Shut up, Jack. You're not coming with us at-"

"Neither are you, Will! You're _so_ not accompanying me to the port, if it's the last thing I do! I don't want you there!"

"Well, surprise, surprise, Joey. I'm not listening to you anymore. I'm going with you. No matter what."

"Well, ain't that her kill-joy, eh whelp? Going against everything she wants-I'm sure, in some weird dimensional world you live in, dats how she's going to fall in luv with yer. Real smart, eh savvy?"

"Jack, just shut up! Just shut the hell up! And, for the love of God, release her this instance or I will make it my personal agenda to ensure your death by this evening!"

"Oh, yer mean like this?"

"HEY! Let go, you perv!!"

"JACK!!"

"Oh come on, lad. Come on over here and try to dice me up. I'm sure dat would sort out yer feelings for de lass."

"I DO NOT HAVE ANY FEELINGS-"

"Let me go, Sparrow, or I'm cutting your balls off!"

"Just a little longer, luv. Have patience-C'mon, Will! Come on at me before I personally deflower de young lass…yer have slept with her, yes? Taken her virgin'ty already at least?"

"JACK-"

"I am not a virgin, you moron!"

"What de…yer just a child! A little older den a child, perhaps, but still…what are yer, some child-whore slave or something?!"

"That's it! Your balls are mine!!"

"All de pleasure, luv."

"JACK! LET HER GO NOW, YOU SLIMY GOOD-FOR-NOTHING PIRATE!! OR I SWEAR I WILL-"

"Will the three of yer just _shut up?!_ "

Barbossa glared down at all three of us, his yellow cat eyes flashing with rage as his booming, cracking voice thundered over the three ships like an approaching storm. The cold wind whipped his raggy grey beard across his silk red vest, pulling it taut against the old man's hard face. Heavy, silver brows crowded above his eyes as he frowned down at all of us, his wrinkles pulling his skin down to match the frown. Little Jack screamed at his shoulder.

For a second, none spoke as all eyes returned back to the old pirate. Sparrow still had his arms strapped around me like a straitjacket, a hard, cheeky hand grabbing part of my rear. His hot, rum-stenched breath puffed against the back of my neck as I leaned back against his chest, my own body rising and falling along with his slow breathing. His heart thudded gently against my back.

Standing nearby, cheeks flushed a blooming red, Will still watched us with a rampant rage, his beautiful dark eyes bright and alight with lashing, hot flames. A single, graceful hand was clasped over the hilt of his rapier, as if in ready for battle. His chest was rising and dropping in great speeds

For a moment, I just stared at Will, ignoring everything else. Just stared. Our eyes met but no words were said as we just looked at each, faces blank of any emotion. My heart screamed in my chest.

_Do you care?_

"Now, listen up! I don't care what yer lot say…_all_ yer three are goin' together. End of deal-No, don't even try to argue out of it, lass. It's decided. Yer three will go to Isle de Sands together and get de supplies we are all need. End of story. 'ight?"

Yup.

I'm definitely not going to like this.

Not one bit.

**End of Chapter 21!!!**

**Thanks for all the review, guys! Really…you have no idea what it means to me! You see, for the next three years, I have managed to get into a course for Creative Writing. I mean, sure, its not novel-type of writing. No…it's more on new media and script writing. Nevertheless, I am so excited to be finally doing something that I actually love. So yea…this comments ARE important! They help me improve my writing and remind me not to give up in it at all.**

**So thanks!!!**

**REALLY THANKS!!!**

**Anyway, for the story, I am not going to explain about Circe just yet. She will appear in a few chapters time and only then will the story explain who she is exactly and will the author's note explain where the name actually came from. So, if you want to know about Circe, you got to wait a little more. Sorry.**

**Look out for the next chapter, which, btw, is full of DRAMA!! And, of course, more quirky moments between Jack and Joey!**

**Aye, Avast!!  
**

**XOXO**


	23. Ghosts of the past

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Thanks for all the reviews guys! Really appreciate it! And yes…Joey is annoying and immature…. but sorry folks, I'm not going to change anything about her at all. She's going to continue being a little brat and get on with fighting with everyone…sorry if its not too your liking but that's how I engineered Joey. I made her immature and wild and none of that is going to change. I can promise, however, that future circumstances involving a certain undead Captain is going to make her a tad bit more serious and mature. Not going to change her as much.**

**Anyway, thanks for the comments and please enjoy this one!**

The plan had been simple, really.

While the three pirate ships, side by side, hid away into one of many dark, coral caves of the small port island, Sparrow, Will and I had towed away on three row boats, heading to shore to collect as much supplies as we could for the two crews. Bribes had been handed over to the harbour master and bargains argued over counters at the nearby market. After all that, we would return back to the ships with our fresh stocks of meat, water and, of course, rum.

It was simple, effective plan.

Having Sparrow don a sand-coloured, hooded robe was part of mine.

"Why do I have to wear dis again, luv?" Sparrow grumbled as he lugged the last crate of not-so-fresh lamb meat into the tail of the row boat, seawater sloshing at the added weight, "It ain't me style." In front of us, sliding just above the silver horizon, a pale, fading sun slowly sank into the waves, the grey sky obliterating any hope of a colourful, warm sunset. Cold, icy waves crashed against the wooden deck, shaking the feeble timber as if it would just break under all our weight. Behind us, the dying racket that was the port and its businesses echoed into the cool breeze.

"Hanging around with you isn't part of my style either," I snapped in reply as I turned away from the man before me to growled behind my shoulder in a thick sneer, "But you don't see me complaining. Besides, its all your fault-if you hadn't tried to steal that goddamn necklace, you wouldn't be hiding from the soldiers, now would you?"

"I wanted to give de neck 'lace to yer, luv."

"Like I would believe that."

Sparrow just glared his kohl-rimmed eyes in reply. His tanned face was but a shadow of skin and bones beneath the veil of his lightly coloured hood. The wind whistled against his cheeks.

Crouched over the boats on the side, arms laden and brown robe flapping in the evening cold breeze, Captain Jack Sparrow reminded me of a certain homeless man back home, in 2009. No one really knew his name-all the people of my town ever cared about was that he stank of vomit, alcohol and faeces whenever he slept over on the park bench, arms open in a plea for alms. No one had even cared about him; an unintentional resemblance, I assume, between that man and the one before me. Nevertheless, it got me thinking.

_Did Captain Jack Sparrow even have a home?_

"That would be five gold, Miz," a tall stranger behind me grunted out in exhaustion, pulling me back to the current year. With a swish of the pink skirt and a quick withdrawal of both mind and eyes, I pivoted on my heels to face the man with a bright smile.

It was one of those African traders, his high cheekbones pushing determinedly against the burnt chocolate of his skin. His great, long shadow swallowed me whole as he glared down dark eyes at me, the black turban around his head flipping and flapping in the approaching gale. Streams of thick, perfect muscles flowed down his sleeveless arms, the dark, calloused skin embellished with black, runic tattoos. A hard, grim frown was set into his thick lips.

"Five?" I rose a single eyebrow as I crossed both arms across my squeezed chest, the cloth of Scarlett's dress barely keeping me warm, "That's it? That's all your reducing?" Towering above me, the man's face seemed to sink into a deeper, uglier frown. Somewhere behind his tall back, in the growing darkness of the port, voices were shouting in crude Spanish.

"I've already brought it down far eno'ugh," his voice was like the rumbling of an old, distant train, his accent thick and unidentifiable "What more do you want?"

"Um, more?!" I rose both eyebrows now, leaning slightly forward as I tried to push across my point even more," You give me meat that is barely above _every_ health regulations, let alone even the slightest bit fresh. How old is the meat, huh? Three days? A week? And you're asking for _five_?" Behind me, facing the shadowy sea, Sparrow was cursing beneath his breath as he adjusted the crates on one of the rowboats. The icy breeze pulled playfully at my hair, kissing the soft pink fabric against my lower shin. Someone was screaming about in Chinese.

"You came to us, not de other way around. You accept what we give. It's five, or nothing."

"Perhaps, but unless you even want the sale at all, go lower. 'Cause I'm not paying-"

"Just pay the man, Joey," Will's voice cut through my angered one in a deep sigh, his familiar tone like a slap of warmth against my cooled skin. The breeze kicked up to a wind. Without another word, I helplessly tilted to the side, looking past the thunderous shadow of the trader and towards the approaching figure behind him; Will Turner walked briskly towards us upon the wooden deck, his heavy boots hitting against the damp wood in repetitive _thuds. _Algae crunched under his feet. Up above, shadows flashed across his weary face as he trudged onward, the sweet icy wind tugging and playing with the dark curls that framed his handsome face-his little brown ponytail bobbed up and down as he walked. Gold glinted at his near-bare chest as sweat slowly dripped down from his bronzed face-somehow, even on this damp day, the man could still sweat. Dark circles hung beneath his enchanting eyes.

"But Will-"

"Just do it."

With a heavy sigh and an orbital roll of my eyes, I reached helplessly into my pocket-so typical of men to side with one another.

Even when I was obviously right.

With another long drag, I heaved and pulled out a handful of glittering gold coins. They were, of course, all pure gold-they were all large, slotting above one another in a bid to squeeze together atop the small space of my palm. Strange, runic cravings flashed atop the many, glinting surfaces-without another pause, I reached forward and gingerly dropped 5 gold coins into the dark slab of a hand. Will paced away by me-his muscular, tanned arms cradled a large wooden crate to his chest, partially hiding his gold medallion. Frightened squawks screamed away as he trudged past.

The tall black man before me clamped his fist over his 5 gold coins and without even a word of gratitude, pivoted on his heavy feet and marched away into the darkening dock. Boots boomed like thunder as he left us for good. In the distant, the bobbing white of soldiers marched near the stone facade of the fort.

"YOU'RE WELCOME, YOU PEA-BRAIN MORON!"

"And that is why, luv," Sparrow grunted behind me as he glared squinting eyes back at me, his face almost hidden in the dark of his hood, "Yer will never make a good impression on anyone."

"Bite me, asshole."

He was probably right, though.

Standing there, in the shadows of the cold, setting sun, pink-clad arms biting against the unbelievably tight corset under Scarlett's dress, I couldn't help but hate everything again. Hate that I was here, stuck in this century, with morons such Sparrow as company. Hate that I was falling for the most emo, play-innocent guy I had ever met. Hate that the person I was stuck here with just happened to be my brother.

I know, I know. By now, I should have totally stopped complaining. After all, it's been about 3 weeks already. Complains such as those before should have been accepted, stated facts that I should have come to by now. I know, I know.

I just can't help it at all.

I just want this entire adventure to end.

And I promise, God, I will never ask for any excitement in my life ever again.

Will's voice brought be back to the world again.

"Joey," his breath came out short, voice warm as usual, "We're done?" Pivoting on my toes, I snapped out of my reverie to look at the two men behind me; Will and Sparrow were struggling to put the last crate into the back rowboat, the latter having hopped down onto the bobbing little boat to adjust the crates of supplies. Muscles strained and breaths went short as the two men cooperated for the first time, shifting the heavy, noisy crate into the wavering small boat. The older pirate's hood almost fell off in the wind. With a quick nod, I answered the undead Captain.

"Yup! Nothing else we need…I think."

"Good," Will breathed out as he finally finished the transfer, the load now safely in Sparrow's tanned arms, "That's good." With that, he turned his exhausted gaze directly towards me, forgetting Sparrow entirely.

The day had taken the toll on him. It was only obvious. It was as if the youth had been wringed out of him, as if he was a rag that was too wet. Sharp cheekbones poked out in the shivering, cold shadows as those strange yet always warm and vulnerable eyes switched their focus onto me, droplets of sweat trickling down his face. A strange fire was dancing away in those eyes, a familiar and beautiful fire that stole my heart away with a whisper. A dark curl stood out of place…_God_, I wanted to reach forward and comb it back!

If only I could get a little closer to him.

If only I dared.

For a minute or so, we stood there, just staring at each other without saying a word. At the boat, Sparrow huffed and puffed in effort. Will's face was unreadable, an emotion of some sort splaying across his adorable features. Dark brown eyes met mine, catching my breath as they refused to let me go. Soldier's marching vibrated beneath our feet.

"You look absolutely beautiful today, Joey. In that dress…."

God.

I wanted to hit him.

Seriously. _Why would he say that?!_ WHY?! Did he _want_ to kill me? Did he want to make me suffer? Pushing me away…then complimenting me in a way that, if any other boy had done back home, would have been cheesy….but from him sounding like the most perfect, amazing words in the world…

WHY WAS HE DOING THIS TO ME?!

"You-…Forget it." I shook away all the feelings with a quick swipe, trying my very best to ignore and forget everything now, "Just forget it. Shall we stay the night, over at the inn? I'm too exhausted to row back."

I should have said something in reply. Something nasty, to show that I was still mad at him…for whatever. Just something. Anything. But no…I _had_ to change the subject. Had to avoid the topic altogether. Show him that I actually still _cared_.

Fuck, why was that such a bad thing?!

For a second or so, the light in Will's eyes faltered. Something shifted in his face.

Then, with the snap of the fingers, he blinked away that emotion and allowed sense to return into his features. Dark eyes wrenched off me to blink down at the wooden ground before finally returning back to stare at me, neutral and unmoving.

"No," he answered simply, his eyes now cool and calm, as if he hadn't even just called me beautiful, "The inn's on solid ground. I can't touch land, remember? I'm walking on tip-toes on this dock as it is already." A stray hand tugged at his satchel, as if in confirmation. Balancing on one of the rowboats, Sparrow was watching our exchange with a cool smile, leaning against the noisy, squawking crate. I wanted to reach down and slap him. With a deep breath and a gulp of bitter salvia, I tried to regain my composure.

"Oh, right…" I trailed, pulling my eyes off Will to look back down at Sparrow, a frown slowly forming on my face, "Fine. Rowing then. But let me tell you, I'm stopping every 10 minutes. I'm fucking tired from haggling all day so you two better wait up for me …I'm taking the boat with all the rum, just in case."

"No way, luv. I've already called dibs…if yer slow, then it ain't me-"

"Will?"

A delicate, accented voice cut through Sparrow's argument, like knife slicing its way through thick, unchurned butter. It stopped all my thoughts in paralysing confusion; it came from behind me, a sweet, female voice singing out a single, definite word. A word that, by the way, often haunted my dreams in menace. A name that sounded so perfect and smooth in that accented tone.

Without even bothering to look at my companions, I swished my soft pink fabric as I pivoted on my heels, turning to stare at the newcomer.

Standing alone on the darkening dock, little lamps bobbing to life behind among the swirling mass of traders, was a beautiful young woman, barely older then me. Perhaps only of twenty or twenty-one years-I really couldn't tell. She was a sight, though; thick, luscious brown hair was piled atop her head in a Victorian-style hairdo, a few shades darker then my own. Trinkets of curls fell loosely onto her powdered forehead, shimmers of bright brown along her demure face as a tight, long knot of curls twisted away down her shoulder. Bare, powdered skin flashed all the way down from her neck to the edge of her rather flat chest, the white embroidery of her long, elegant dress framing her cleavage in a modest yet attracting manner. A golden necklace of some sort encircled her frail neck.

Her dress was a sweeping typical corset-type, quite different from Scarlett's more causal one. Roses of light brown decorated the cloth as it covered her entirely, stretching all the way down to her glove-clad wrists; the end of her dress was like a tent, poofing out in a hard canopy of delicate, silk. Pretty, heeless shoes clad her tiny feet, so small that they were no larger then my own hands. A tight corset obviously embodied her in tight hug, pushing up her assets, or should I say _lack of_. Her figure was of a swelt, perfect 8.

Up above her beautiful form was an even more perfect face, delicate and pure in every manner. Thick, definite lips parted slightly in the growing shadows, the end of a narrow yet somehow sculpted nose. Soft brown eyes, the colour of wood, shone out of her pale powdered face as she watched us in complete silence, plain shock flashing across her lovely features. In her arms, cradled in a soft, blue blanket, was a form of a sleeping baby, the top of his head tufted with brown.

She was even prettier then Scarlett.

"Will," she said his name again, her eyes trained only on the man himself. A thick, English accent rolled out of her mouth in that single word, like the sound of china pinging against one another. The cold breeze played with her loose curls, wiping at the powder relentlessly. Beneath all the makeup, tanned skin glowed through. The baby was still in her smooth arms.

"Elizabeth," Will's voice echoed beside me, completely void of emotion in the swaying wind. _Elizabeth_. That name….

Catching my breath, I turned a sidelong look at him; he was just standing there, in the cold shadows of the dying day. Just…standing. He was no more then a perfect statue in the growing dark, his sculpted face blank and hard without any emotions. The frigid, relentless wind danced about his loose curls, glazing against his shadowy high cheekbones like kisses from a lover. Knots of muscles jumped in his jaw, like frayed wire strained together in a bundle. His dark eyes were strangely hard and unmoving as he gazed upon that woman. Behind him, down on the rocking boats, Sparrow's face was placid.

"Will," the woman breathed again, her jewel eyes widening in surprise, "I can't believe…I never thought that I would ever see you again." A shadow of a smile peeked at her lips as she cradled the child closer, the small patch of brown hair flapping in the wind. Behind her, to the east of the port, a big ship was just rolling in. My stomach was lurching, for no apparent reason.

"Neither did I," was Will's only reply as he kept his hard, relentless gaze on the beautiful creature before us, his shoulders straight and tense. Muscles were jumping at his rigid, firm jaw. His voice, too, was cold and hard, lacking any sort of emotion whatsoever. Fists were clenched at his side.

"Well, I suppose this is a surprise for both of us then," the woman's-Elizabeth-smile widened slightly, holding the sleeping child to her breasts, " Isn't it, Will?" Her eyes were struggling with some emotion.

Will didn't even bother to answer. Instead, he just stood there, staring like an ancient Greek statue of Apollo or something. Except he had clothes on, of course. Every muscle in his body seemed to be strained and tightened like the ropes of the ship. Nothing about his face moved at all. Sparrow maintained his silence. In Elizabeth's arms, the little, sleeping baby was stirring awake.

For a few moments, no one said a word as Will and Elizabeth just stared at each other, several, disturbing emotions flashing across her face whilst none tainting Will's. The stirring, cold evening air began even more icy frigid as the stares continued, unspoken messages flashing across. Strands of lose hair stirred in the wind. Hard brown eyes didn't even acknowledge the child.

Finally, with a roll of my eyes, I stepped forward.

"You must be the famous Elizabeth," I said without really thinking, an unusual sense of social habits climbing its way into me as I threw on my biggest grin, "Pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Joey."

At my voice, the beautiful woman snapped her gaze away from Will, as if a scissors had snapped apart the thin tendril between them. Soft brown eyes, oh-so-different from Will's tormented, emo ones, fell down upon me like waves lapping against the side of black rocks. The baby cooed in her arms. The smile on her face widened as she tore out of the trance, focusing all attention towards me now.

"Pleasure to meet you too, Joey," She smiled a striking yet demure beam, brightening up her make-upped face in great lengths, "Though I can't say I have heard of you, as much as you have heard about me." There was something quite fascinating about her, something polished and perfect-unlike Scarlett, who reminded me of a perfect little doll, this woman before us now was more life-like. More real. Her giant dress stayed still as stone as in the strong wind. Behind her, swarming about the dock, people were beginning to move their businesses back onto land, shutting down for the night. Little twinkles of candlelight burned from the town behind, rising up the hill in a wondrous display much like a Christmas tree. I could no longer feel the sun's heat at all, though the world still remained the slightest bit bright. The smile didn't leave my face.

"Well, there was often mention of you. Besides, I did use your outfit earlier, back on board. I hope you don't mind…it was all that there was for women on that ship."

"Oh, of course not!" Elizabeth's smile widened into what must be the most charming grin, a fat chubby little hand reaching forward from the blue bundle as the child stretched, and "I suppose you are one of Will's crew?" As she said this, soft brown eyes nervously jumped towards the man beside me; Will was still a statue, an unmoving pinnacle of coldness. My insides were squeezing in on themselves, for no apparent reason.

"Well, no. I…I…."

_Oh, what the heck!_

"I'm with Sparrow," I finally nodded, deciding that being under Sparrow's domain was better then being taken for an undead, doomed bastard, "I'm part of his crew."

Strangely enough, I don't care if I was a pirate or not.

Not right now.

Behind me, down on the dark boats, Sparrow chuckled in amusement.

"Ah! Yer admit! Yer a pirate, luv. Me pirate, nonetheless!"

"Shut up, moron."

For a moment, Elizabeth looked genuinely confused as she stared between the hooded Sparrow and I; recognition finally dawned on her as she saw the face beneath the brown hood, the cold wind pulling the cloth a little back. Her pretty little mouth parted slightly as the baby made a quick gurgling sound, finally awake from his slumber. Will said not a word beside me.

"Jack," her voice was brisk as she tilted one perfect eyebrow upwards, holding her child closer, "Nice to see you again."

"As it is yer, lass."

"I see you're trying out a new fashion."

"Blame it on dis luv, lass."

"What are you doing here, Elizabeth?" It was the first time Will had spoken out of turn, without being asked to. His voice was hard and bitter, unyielding and cold as rock. Turning sidelong again, I saw that nothing had changed in him; he was still an emotionless git, a perfect statue against the newly darkened skies. His hard brown eyes kept his attention on Elizabeth's face, and only her face. He didn't even seem to care about the child.

Nothing in him seem to move at all.

I had to fight every urge in my body to reach forward and console him, even though I knew no reason why he was even acting this way.

I just knew that he was upset.

It was quite dark already yet somehow, in the semi-darkness of the glowing lamps ahead, I could still see Elizabeth's face-raw, flinching pain flashed across her face at Will's words, her tanned arms unconsciously hugging the child closer towards her chest. Soft brown eyes seemed to falter greatly, like she had just stepped over the ledge or something. Her lips parted in a whisper, reaching above the noises of the people and their benefactor, the sea.

"Will…."

"Just answer the question."

For a fleeting moment, her hazel eyes darted towards me and then behind me, towards Jack. The child in the arm gave out a quick cry. Thoughts seemed to whirl in her head as silence engulfed us all again, covering over us like a security blanket. Dread sank within me. Finally, with a catch of her breath and the panging of my own heart, the young mother-I assumed-spoke again.

"Phillip and I were visiting Governor Dantes…we were just leaving, back for London. Our ship's just made port only now…it was delayed by the weather, I fear."

"Ah, Phillip. How is the old chap?"

The way Will said _chap_…was is it wrong to feel slightly unnerved by the way he said it? With such spite? With such bitterness?

The façade of Will's stony, untouched face had broken slightly, like a crack in a mirror-in place was a simple, bitter smirk, barely discernible in the gleaming dark. Hard brown eyes focused all attention towards the young woman before us, cold and dead.

Without life.

Much like his father.

The baby gave out another cry for attention.

"Fine," Elizabeth nodded her head once, her brown eyes drawn wide as she began to rock the child in her arms, the tuft of brown hair making weird, gurgling sounds, "Phillip's just fine. In fact, he's thinking about accepting that position over at Malaya…I think he might just accept it."

There was a quiver in her voice, like she was facing something that she would rather not face at all. Smooth arms rocked the waking child slowly and comfortingly, her tanned powdered skin slowly drawing pale-as if the blood was draining out of her body. Petite, dainty feet shifted uneasily upon the wet wood.

"Malaya?"

"Yes," her voice seemed to drop into a near-whisper, "It's far away from here and I really wouldn't like to go. It's good for Phillip, though. The position is pristine-I would hate to leave all that we have here behind here, of course, but what has to be done must be done."

"That's odd," something of a bitter, cruel laugh crept into Will's voice as the smirk widened in his face, the darkness casting him in near-shadows, "You didn't seem all that nostalgic about the Caribbean when you left to wed Phillip in London."

I could feel my lungs slowly squeezing the breath out of me.

"That was different," Elizabeth said simply, eyes wet and wide as she rocked the gurgling baby a little faster, "This…This is farther away."

"I see. But you must be happy, somehow…Malaya is much farther away from me then England."

For a second or so, no one spoke. In the shadowy darkness, rimmed with voices, no one dared even breathed. In front of us, rocking her child, Elizabeth had hit a full-blown pale, matching the nasty powder all over her. Her soft brown eyes were unbelievably wide and deep, her thick lips parted in unspeakable words. The baby was making weird, little sounds. Beside me, on the dock, Will didn't say a word. The cruel, horrid smirk was wiped off his face, like paint removed by thinner. Sparrow was silent too. For once.

I tried to breathe as the cold silence pressed down on us, resistant.

Almost as if the tensed silence between us all were tight nooses around our necks, killing us in horrid, pain-wrenching deaths.

Somebody please talk!

"That's an adorable baby, you've got," I tried my best to smile, breaking the white cold silence between us all like the smashing of glass, "It's a boy, isn't it?" Heads snapped towards me as my voice broke through the sounds of crashing waves, a false sense of brightness dancing at my words. I had no idea why I was still smiling, beaming away amidst all the strained tension and awkward feelings. I didn't even like to smile all that much.

Nevertheless, I widened my grin, enlarging my eyes as false cheer swarmed through my heart. Somehow, I felt the need to bring some kind of merriment back, if ever, into this very, _very_, tensed-out situation.

"Yes, it's a boy," Elizabeth's face cracked into a smile as the colour slowly returned back into her skin, a dark orange not much unlike our favourite undead Captain, "He's of three months." Her gentle brown eyes seemed to shine again as she tilted her arms forward a little, all previous emotions temporarily forgotten as she edged ahead to show off her wakening child; in her smooth arms, snug in the blanket, was a little baby boy, his body wrapped in soft cloth. He was a chubby, adorable little thing, really; pure white skin, like frosted snow, gleamed out of the baby blue blanket in a chubby bundle, little white arms reaching out in a wakening stretch. Thick fingers shook gently, like little white sausages at the end of his palms. Up above, tucked safely in the bundle, the little baby was just waking up; dark brown eyes, a beautiful, enchanting colour peered up at me in tiny little slits, his reddened face yawning in exhaustion. The short clump of dark brown hair wavered in the cold wind, nearly bladed to the scalp. His little nose wiggled as he stared up at me….

_Those eyes_.

Where had I seen those eyes?

"AWWWWWW!" I practically cooed as I rushed forward towards the woman and child, my heart melting with absolute delight, "He is too CUTE!!!" Cubby white palms draped against his mother's chest as sleep was slowly wiping out of his face, brown eyes widening ever so slowly. A yawn escaped his small lips again.

So, yes.

Yes, I get all mushy around babies.

Serious mushy.

Sue me.

"He is gorgeous!" I beamed with delight as I stared down at the sleepy child, eyes wide with excitement and filled with a strange sense of bliss, "He must be yours?" Up above the child, Elizabeth chuckled a sweet sound, eyes dancing with amusement. Loose curls bounced against her powdered forehead as she nodded with a gleaming white grin. All around us, the shadows of the night had finally made their full descent. Will's and Sparrow's hard gaze dug into my back like sharp, blood-tipped daggers. The wind whistled against my pink-clad arms, pulling my hair and gown back-I probably looked like a freaking phantom or something, standing in the semi-dark like that. My bare feet were becoming quite numb.

"Oh, how adorable!" I cooed again, reaching forward a single finger to the child's hand, letting him catch it in a sleepy play, "Could I carry him?' My heart was jumping with pure delight-he was too irresistible! Will's gaze seemed to never leave me.

Of course, it was a weird question, seeing as I didn't know her at all. Yet, that didn't seem to matter with her; in a single, brisk movement, she raised the child in her hairless arms and placed him gently into my own, like passing a precious, breakable gift. Soft, chubby flesh thudded its weight down onto me unexpectedly as the baby was transferred into my arms, a cooing bundle of joy that gurgled its way with salvia. Blue blanket draped over my cold arms as the little child kicked gently.

"AWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!"

"Will yer keep stop it already, luv?"

"Oh, shut it, Sparrow," I snapped behind my back before staring down at the child, at his soft, yawning red face, "He's such a beauty. What's his name?"

In the silence that followed, I kept my eyes down on the child, on the sweet, infant face in my arms. The smile spread farther across my face as I stared down at him; it was strange, holding a little baby, a fragile, helpless young thing like that. As if putting his entire, young life into my every own arms.

I mean, what if he was _my _child? _My_ son? Could you imagine that? My very own-

"His name is William Turner the Third."

Silence.

It was as if every part of me had frozen solid.

My heart stopped beating.

My blood stopped racing.

_I stopped thinking._

Silence.

"What?" I squeaked out helplessly, eyes still caught in the gaze of the young child in my arms. It was as if time itself had stopped, freezing in complete standstill.

No thoughts, none at all. Not a single one.

"William," Elizabeth repeated, her voice so soft it matched the howling wind, "That's his name."

Nails dug into the blue blanket as blank eyes froze my gaze down at the sleep, adorable child-it was as if a white bank of fog had blinded me, cutting of my vision. My throat was suddenly so dry.

Too dry.

The wind pressed against my cheeks like sharp, relentless stabs.

My heart wasn't even moving.

"Will?" I finally pulled my cold eyes away from the child in my arms, my parched throat squeaking out the word as I blanked out the world. Only one thing mattered now-ignoring both Sparrow and the beautiful, paling Elizabeth before me, I pivoted on my heels, my fiery hair swishing and curling as I turned my unbelieving, numb gaze at the man behind me.

"Will?"

He was just standing there, staring at me.

Just staring.

No emotion, no words, no feelings…nada.

Nothing at all.

Absolutely nothing.

Just a pair of cold, hard brown eyes.

Eyes that were identical to the sleepy ones staring up at me now.

…………………….

I didn't want to think.

"He's your son?" I had no idea why I was speaking, let alone asking this question out of all the questions that I could have come up with, "Both of yours?"

Then again, Dad always said that I was too honest and direct for my own good.

_Stop thinking._

"Yes," Elizabeth's cool, soft voice answered me in time, hushed to a mere whisper, "Yes. William's our child." Arms nearly went limp as I gazed back down at little baby-William, apparently-with fogged-up eyes. My heart refused to beat. My eyes wouldn't meet any of the other's.

William.

William Turner.

William Turner the Third.

_Will's son._

This can't be possible. It can't be.

It's not real. I'm dreaming.

This is all just made-up.

Will couldn't be a father. He couldn't…_He would have told me!_

He would have told me from the beginning, from that kiss.

He would have told me about this baby.

About his child.

About his son.

_Why wouldn't he?_

"We should go," Sparrow's voice hushed in my ear, breaking through the fog of my mixed, tangled thoughts like a ship breaching through a bank of white mist, "It's goin' to be too dark to get back to de ships." His breath tickled against my cold cheek.

I don't know how, or when-sometime during it all, during all of _this_, Sparrow had made his way back onto the wooden dock. Back beside me-the stench of stale rum lingered in the air, mixing heavily with the aroma of the darkened sea. Voices chatted, argued and laughed somewhere in the distance, far away from this world. The baby stared silently up at me, eyes more beautiful then anything in the whole entire world. My breath was becoming painful with every take.

"Joey?"

Firm fingers gripped my arm, a hard chest pressing against my rigid back. Hot breath danced along my wavering hair as soothing hands, hot and strong rubbed up and down my folded pink-clad arms. Another shadow, darker and taller then my own, shifted above the sleepy child's face, the one cradled in my arms. My heart was squeezing in on itself, choking away any life.

Will's son.

_Stop thinking._

Before I knew what was going on, the blue bundle of sleepy, gurgling joy was taken away from my arms, azure cloth draping everywhere as the transfer was made back into his mother's arms-my mind wasn't working, every thought muddled and blurred as life left my arms. My heart was clenching way, squeezing and holding in unforgiving spirit. Something was pulling at the pit of my stomach.

I need my father.

Please, God.

I need him back.

"Go on now, Elizabeth. I suppose yer old kickin' spot of a hus'band is already sendin' man out looking for yer…ye best be going. We need to go to, anyway."

With that, the tall pirate, a man that I had so loathed just a few minutes ago, was ushering me back, arms draped over my stiff shoulders. Feet shuffled me forward-dark black boots marching softly beside pale, naked feet. His warmth seeped into my broken body, like a blanket I badly needed. My eyes were becoming sore.

"Come on now, luv."

And with that, Captain Jack Sparrow walked me away from Elizabeth, from the truth, turning my back towards her. Taking me away from it all….pulling me back into the real world.

A world where heartbreak were only in the movies.

A world where love was something to fantasise about.

A world where lies were not as hurtful as they seemed.

_Dark eyes watched me silently…the dual syllable of my name spilling out of his lips in a near-whisper…a single hand reaching out in the dark…_

A world where Will could be forgotten.

**Ta-da! I did it!!!!**

**Ok guys…sorry for making you wait. This chapter was a little tougher to write, since I was dealing with emotions and all. So yea…it was tough. And at times, boring. But somehow…I DID IT!!**

**Haha…anyway, just FYI, I recommend to all writers that whenever you're writing a heart-break/emotional moment between lovers-to-be, try writing it while listening to Nick Lachey's 'What's Left Of Me'. Weird…I know…but somehow, it works. Music that fits the theme often helps me during writing; help me convey the feelings and emotions better.**

**And for the story…please give me any suggestions and feedback you can think of! I'm not too sure about Joey's reaction to Will's son and all…you know….heartbreak-shock…but I would like to know how you guys feel about it! **

**Thanks for all the reviews and please review even more!!!! Somehow, the reviews seem to be the battery upon which I run on to write all of this!**

**THANKS!**

**XOXO**


	24. My Jolene

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**Song credit: Jolene by Dolly Parton**

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews and please leave any comments!!! THANKS!!**

**Anyway, I'm trying something a little different with this chapter, so please enjoy and tell me what you think!**

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_I'm begging of you_

_Please don't take my man_

For some arcane reason unknown to me, the old Dolly Parton hit song streamed through my head, like a broken recorder that just wouldn't die. Each word sang through my mind in sweet, indefinite notes, rich and pure in the silence of the night air. Trembles shook through my body at their whisper.

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Please don't take him_

_Just because you can._

Walking silently up the stairs, pale bare feet like blocks of ice against thick green algae, my mind wouldn't quiet. No, sir, it wouldn't. Instead, in the deathly grave silence of the sleeping _Flying Dutchman, _in the soft whispers of the rain-scented night wind and quiet padding of my wandering feet, thoughts flooded its way into me; words, sung words wouldn't stop murmuring to me, taunting me relentlessly. The corners of my vision was creeping away, back into the dark cracks and corners of the ghost ship. My throat was as parched as sandpaper.

_Jolene._

She was Jolene, wasn't she? The enigmatic, beautiful vixen that captured every man's heart…that was Elizabeth, wasn't it? The 18th century Jolene, the enchanting woman that stole Dolly Parton's man despite all of her pleas and begs…

But I wasn't Dolly Parton, was I? I wasn't the woman begging the vixen in that song, pleading with her to let her man be, to let him return back to her again. I wasn't the scorn woman in that beautiful song, wasn't that crying girl, imploring with all her might. I wasn't the woman so madly in love with her man.

Because I wasn't in love.

Will wasn't my man.

At all.

_Then, why did that bloody song keep playing about in my head?_

As my cold, naked feet hit against the damp, rain-drenched sun deck, the white of my gown flowing over my cold form like creamy milk, the thoughts didn't release their hold of me. No, they held on, trapping me in their iron grips despite all my protests. Words clawed their way through my foggy mind-somehow, spending the rest of the evening telling both Scarlett and Jared about the day's revelations had done little to pacify my whirling mind. On the other hand, it had only made it worse; Scarlett's chide comments and Jared's anger-tempered ones had only fuelled on all the emotions inside me, their disapproval of all matters like lingering shadows wrapping around my trapped body. Their last words had been especially harsh:

"He was pained, Joanna," she had sighed as she pulled herself off my bed, velvet red hair gliding down her straight back like a licking, crimson waterfall of blood, "This…Elizabeth…she must have left him. With his _son_. He had every right to keep it from you, no matter the manner of your relationship."

"Which isn't much!" Jared had sniggered in reply, shoving the soup-soaked bread into his gaping mouth, "I mean, come on Joey! You guys kissed…_once_. A single kiss…no matter the indecency…doesn't verify a _relationship_." His face had screwed up, as it always did when anyone brought up that kiss between Will and I. The bed bounced under his huge, muscular weight.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jared. Don't you read anymore? One kiss_ can _change everything, you know."

"No, it can't. That's just all fairy-tale nonsense."

"Yes, it can."

"No, it can't!"

"Yes, it can!"

"No!'

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

"N-"

"Will you two just shut the fuck up?!?!?!"

The song became to play in my head again.

The world around me was a mosaic of black and blue, the bobbing, flickering lamps of the other two ships but trembling spots of faint yellow in the dark. They were like nodding heads-their golden glow painted the wood a wobbly hue of yellow, casting away the leeching black shadows from their weak circles of light. Up above, the moon was playing hide-and seek with the clouds-a sliver of pale white shone in the middle of all the black, its frail glow smearing the nearby clouds with faint silver. Dots of stars littered the endless black above, like Christmas lights peeking out of the dark. The wind was nothing more then cold whispers against my skin

If it were another night, _any _other night, this would have been all so beautiful.

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

I slowly blinked my eyes as my feet moved without my consent; they brought me forward, sliding my cold toes across the wet wood. Everything smelled more wonderful tonight-the sea smelt oh-so-sweet, the telltale wind like a rushing rainstorm. The sound of slow waves crashed against the sides of the three ships gently, rocking us to sleep. Upon the other two ships, to the right of the ghost ship, shadows shifted about-pirate watchmen patrolled the soulless decks, ignoring my presence completely. Fingers weighed down along my body.

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

Elizabeth.

Then, somehow, among all the dark, my feet hit solid wood-I had hit the front door of the Captain's quarters, banging slightly against the hard, algae-grimed door. Soft white silk pressed against the slime involuntarily as I quickly pulled back-the knock against the wood had pulled me back to earth, out of the road less forest of my mind. Nerves seemed to jump awake, springing into life once again. The song kept its tune in the dark recesses of my mind.

_Oh God._

Somehow, _somehow_, by some dark-humoured joke by God, I was now standing here, outside Will's door, cold from the wind. My golden-brown hair was pulling back in the breeze, kissing against my white-clad back in soft, trembling whispers. My hands trembled at my side as my stomach lurched up into the air.

Thank you, God.

Really.

_I'm begging of you_

"Enter," A muffled, familiar voice echoed from behind the closed door, soft and far away as the teasing of the night wind. My entire body froze all over again; somehow, my little mindless bang against the door had alerted Will, perhaps like a knock to him on the other side of the wooden door. In front of me, blackness seeped out from beneath the wooden slab of wood, the tiny gap that separated the door from the algae-lined floor but nothing more then a thin slit of empty black. The door was strangely warm, though.

Will was still awake.

Without another thought, I reached forward and grabbed the cool metal brass doorknob.

_Please don't take my man._

* * *

Will's study was dark.

The giant, wooden room was completely plunged into blackness, the heavy drapes at the tall windows smiting any hope of reaching, silver hands. Dark shapes loomed in the shadows. It was like walking around with a blindfold strapped around my eyes; I could see nothing, absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

Except perhaps a glimmer of flickering firelight, washing through a tiny crack in the wall.

An ajar door.

One I had never noticed before, in all the times I had been here.

Which, by the way, wasn't as much as I would like.

With a soft _click_, I shut the main door behind me and padded forward, the cold stale in the air as warmth slowly danced around the black-shadows played along the wooden door at the wall, the orange light bright and alive with the promise of warmth. The wind was whispering against the cool glass, the ones behind the heavy dusty curtains. In the middle of all the black, a soft glowing wicker sat at mid-hip, slowly dying away. My stomach was still spinning off its axis.

Without a word, my breath caught in my throat, I inched through the darkness until at last, the tips of my bare feet were washed with licking orange. Warmth poked at me as I stopped right in front of the door, but an inch away as the light began to play all over my face-what was I doing? I shouldn't be here…I don't _want_ to be here. After all, why the hell would I want to see him after everything that had happened today?

….

Yet, I still pushed the door with my cold fingertips.

The room was huge. Massive even. Unlike the many rooms that filled the giant belly of the _Flying_ _Dutchman_, the master bedroom of the undead Captain of the ghost ship was a masterpiece in its very right. A giant, orange-streaked masterpiece. It stretched at least 10 meters, the wooden floor smooth as ice beneath my bare feet. The walls were different though; a greenish pearl-like surface swopped through the entire room, winding about in twirling turrets and high arches. It was all quite beautiful, really- the smooth rock reached up into the high ceiling, faceless and calm as liquid as it climbed throughout the room in perfect craftsmanship. A fireplace of the same rock had been carved out of the side of the room, a beautiful spiralling masterpiece that spat choking black smoke up its long funnel. The flickering flames at its base, the ones licking away the wood, casted shaky shadows along its sides, lighting up the weird engravings with a tinge of orange. Warmth slowly spread its way forth from the burning hearth.

The middle of the room seemed much like a large trench; short flights of polished steps led down to a square bottom, the steps just a few feet in front of me wider and longer then those directly opposite from them. Their similar wide, jagged ends piled down to the bottom in a smooth straight line, ending in a perfect, clean square about 2 meters wide. The fireplace spat and churned off to the right; a large, ornate organ of some kind filled up the entire left of the room, bordering the whole left breath of the square with its massive size. Truth be told, it was an atrocity; large, bulbous pipes, much like headless fat stalks in the dim-light, twisted up into the air, reaching high up into the arches. It was made of the same material as the walls, a calm green smooth rock that had been welded and twisted into the giant instrument that filled up against the wall before me.

Hell, it looked like it belonged to Poseidon, the mythological God of the Sea or something-the algae-lined metal that made up its centre and keys had been melded in an odd fashion, its sides trimmed like parting seaweeds and its huge pipes, like straight, green-tinged corals. Dark orange glass, tinted black in the wavering light, had been carved out of the wall behind it, a perfect semicircle of light that was now almost imperceptible in the darkness. A painting was set in its book-rest, hidden away in the flickering shadows; in the dawn of the lazy light, faded figures of dancing angels popped out among all the metal, the white silk shawls that were strapped around their naked bodies like flying rivers of silver. A little metal figurine of an angel, crusted in algae, sat above the worn-out keys, its gentle face hidden in the dark. A single, long chair sat solemnly in front of it.

Creepy, if you ask me.

And then, there was Will; a shadow of a man stood directly opposite me, silent against the black wash of the tall, ceiling-touching window. The moonlight barely cast any light upon him but the glow from the fire was enough-I would remember those dark brown curls anywhere. He stood like silent statue, his muscled back painted in the dancing orange of the flickering fire. In the soft glow, his tied-up, wet curls seemed almost gold.

My heart was beating about so fast that I felt sick.

"Joey," his voice whispered through the silent, semi-dark room, his form unmoving against the black window, "I thought you would come." In his hand, the fiery light caught the square-ish figure of a coarse cup. My throat felt oddly parched.

"Really?" My arms released themselves from around me, dropping down to the side as I stared at Will's white-clad back, "Am I that predictable?"

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

Stupid song.

For a moment or so, silence pressed down on us all, like a thick, suffocating blanket that wouldn't let go. My naked feet were beginning to feel life again, the heat from the roaring fire below warming them up all again. I was truly beginning to miss my pillow.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Will's voice echoed from behind his lean back, calm and strong as usual.

"No," A tinge of humour seemed to twitch in his voice, rumbling against the cool glass as he talked towards the blackness outside, "No, Joey, you are definitely not predictable. Quite the opposite, actually…No. No, I just know you. You just don't stay quiet for long." The fire spat and gurgled, roaring away its life. My fingers were beginning to warm up too.

"Ah!" I found myself saying, without really thinking as I took my first step forward, the fringe of my night gown swishing against my bare calves, "You know me… Yet, I don't know _you_."

There was a strange bitterness to my voice, an icy, icky bitterness and cold humour that had never been there before. At least, not to Will anyway. My cold feet scraped against the polished wood as I slowly descended the wooden steps, towards the large square in the centre of the room. My honey curls trickled down my white shoulders like golden streams. At the corner, up those steps and to Will's right, sat a large bed, clean and cosy in the warm darkness.

Before me, up above at the foot of the smaller steps, Will's back tightened at my words. His shoulder muscles pulled out on a chord; for a second or so, his wet curls shook as he tilted his head back, half-glancing over his shoulder in the flickering light.

Just for a second.

Then, with the snap of fingers, his face receded back into the darkness, faceless once again. My foot hit the final step the same time my breath sunk to my stomach.

_I'm begging of you_

_Please don't take my man_

I was really beginning to hate this song.

Minutes passed between us as we maintained out post, Will staring out the dark window while I just stood there, at the edge of the large square, bathed in the wavering, warm light. My fingers uncurled at my side as I kept my gaze on his rigid back; why wouldn't he speak?

But then again, what was there to say?

Before I knew what was going on, my feet were moving again, without my consent; in the silence of the room, in the quiet darkness around us, I moved towards the organ.

Yes, yes…I know.

I have a short attention span.

Sue me.

Sitting directly opposite the roaring fire, tinged orange in the light, the giant, green organ looked like a menacing beast, with its jaws opened in anticipation. The metal keys that sat above, just below the gouging pipes, looked like jagged blunt teeth sticking out in hunger. Large pedals stuck out of its base.

_Jolene_

_Jolene_

_Jolene_

_Jolene._

Without another thought, I swung forward and leapt down onto rickety wooden chair, not caring if it would break under my gi-normous weight. Wood shook under me; I momentarily stood up, neating out the white of my dress before planting my butt firmly down and raising my hands. Will's eyes were like sharp daggers in my back.

Ignoring everything around me, I stared at the rusty keys as I planted my fingers over them-they were old, the metal worn over by algae and moss years ago. Their ends were all like jagged daggers-it reminded me much of the piano of bones, the ones used in the Goonies. Except, of course, this one was way creepier. With or without the bones.

_Please don't take him_

_Just because you can_

Taking in a deep breath and ignoring Will's piercing gaze as best as I could, I pressed down on the keys.

The pipes bellowed and at that moment, under a simple C major chord, a loud sound sang through the room. It was like a call of a wind or something; the clear yet tangy noise filled the quiet, warm room like a gush of wave, its odd-shaped pipes belting out the chord in perfect harmony. Goosebumps fluttered over my warmed skin as the notes swam through the thick air, deafening as it crashed against all the walls. The ceiling echoed back the sound in perfect repetition, the mournful call sweeping down onto me like a crushing weight. My heart sank like a heavy rock in the water as the notes flooded over me, killing all other noises. My breath caught in my throat.

There was no other way to describe it. The sound, the music that had spilled out of the belly of giant instrument before me, seem to hold me down, clenching me within its giant fist. My sinking heart squeezed tightly within my own chest. Everything stopped moving, life froze, as I slowly released the notes, pulling away my fingers. Sorrow wept within me.

It was as if the world had just been lost to me.

"It's so…"

"Sad," Will's voice answered directly behind me, his voice soft and full of unreadable emotion. Warmth radiated from him-my voice choked within me as the note faded away, slowly releasing my heart. My hands and legs felt as heavy as lead. The air felt hot, so hot. My heart had stopped beating all together.

"Yeah," It came out as whisper, my throat gulping back a mouthful of salvia, "Sad. That's the right word." My fingers clenched in on themselves as the last of the note died into none existent; sadness overwhelmed my every sense, plunging my entire being into a dark pit of no end. My eyes burned as I closed them-the music. The music did this. Somehow, in this weird, twisted world where magic and gods existed, the music that had cried out of the organ had some kind of _power_. Some unnerving, thick power that I could barely overcome-some part of me wanted to cry, to let the tears fall from my eyes.

Some part of me remembered Elizabeth.

_Your beauty is beyond compare._

_With flaming lines of auburn hair_

_With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green_

My voice choked in my throat as my eyes burned like fire.

_Your smile is like a breath of spring._

_Your voice is soft like summer rain_

_And I cannot compete with you, Jolene._

"Makes you sad, doesn't it?" Will was suddenly beside me on the bench as I peeled my eyes open, blinking away the tears as his warmth flooded away the strange emotions, "The music…the sound…it makes you remember all the things that grieves you."

"Is it magic?"

"Maybe. I don't really know. The man before me…Davy Jones, the previous captain of this ship…this was _his_ organ."

"And he was sad?" The sadness and sorrow were seeping away now, dying like the music yet somehow, it was still there. Raw and alive, poking at my skin. Squeezing my heart away, as if to dust. My throat was as dry as sandpaper.

Flashes of pretty brown eyes and a gurgling baby flooded my sore mind.

"Yes. Very." As I gulped back the emotions, eyes still burning, I turned towards the man beside me; Will sat next to me on the bench, his brown eyes alight with dancing, white fires. The flickering shadows of the roaring hearth played across his face, chasing one another along his sharp, handsome features. Around his angular face, his dark curls shivered for some unknown reason, framing loosely around his tanned cheeks. Down on the wooden bench, his hand was only an inch away from mine. His body heat slammed against my own, sorrow-wrecked one.

The man watched me silently.

With those sad, beautiful eyes.

Despite the sadness, goose bumps of a different kind erupted all over my skin.

My breath caught in my throat again.

"Why?" I whispered as our eyes met across the tiny space between us, my gaze completely trapped in his own. Within me, the sadness was melting away, like ice cream on a burning day; Will's eyes were pulling me away from this strange power, bringing me back to him. My hands itched to reach out and comb back his soft hair. Behind us, in the shaky darkness, the wind howled against the icy, black window.

"Why what?"

"Why was he sad?"

For a second or so, Will said nothing, staring at me without saying a word. His breath was slow, measured, as if it each take and give of air was slowly calculated out. Shadows danced across his high, prominent cheekbones. For a moment, we were both silent, caught in each other's gaze. Finally, Will took a deeper breath.

"Because he loved."

I cocked an eyebrow, helplessly, as I refused to tear my gaze away from him, drinking in his entire being. He was beautiful, you know? The most beautiful man I had ever met in my life. Every part of him, from his lonesome heart and his trudging spirit-every part of him was a living, breathing artwork of absolute beauty. An intoxicating beauty.

One that I could never seem to stop thinking about.

"Loved?"

"Yes," he nodded once, brown eyes still fixed on my own hazel ones, "He loved. And it broke him."

"I don't-"

"The woman he loved," he quickly cut me off, snapping his gaze away from me with a click of fingers, "She left him. Left him for good. Remember what I told you? About how we, we captains can only go ashore every ten years? And that if our beloved waited for us for ten years, we would be free?" His eyes flickered away from me, towards the angels that danced above the keys-my heart screamed. Why did he had to look away? Raw pain exploded within my chest as I looked away hesitantly, down towards my white lap; I tried to breathe again.

"Yes," my voice was shaky as I studied the fine white of the dress, trying to shove away the growing ache, "Yes, I remember."

"Well, she didn't wait. His lover, I mean. Davy Jones' lover. She wasn't there in 10 years…she left him. She deserted him. Purposely, of course…I never quite knew her plans but I am fairly certain that she left Davy Jones for a specific reason. One that benefited her, of course. She's a horrible vixen, I tell you."

Quietly, I took in, drinking in the information as the scene played out in my head. Trying to my best to ignore the pain in my own heart and Will's deep breathing, I tried to picture it all; she left him. His true love. Just like that, she abandoned him, cursing him to an immortal life at sea. An immortal, lonely life. For a moment, my own pain-filled heart clenched in on itself as the image played out before me-the pain he must have felt! The notes that I had played earlier…the power of the organ…was that how the man, Will's predecessor had felt? Was that what heartbreak thoroughly was?

The tears were coming, where ether I liked it or not.

"Who was she?"

"What?"

"This woman…Davy Jones' lover."

For a fleeting moment, he laughed. A cold, humourless laugh. Surprised, I looked up at him; he was staring at the angels with a crooked smile on his face, his brown eyes fixed on the painting before him. Arms had leaned forward to rest tired elbows on the book-rest, the white sleeves falling loose around his mid-arms like streaming white waterfalls. In the wavering firelight, his sweat glimmered against his tanned skin like little drops of gold.

There was something wrong with that laugh.

My insides began to burn at a ferocious rate.

"Will?"

"I'm sorry," he breathed through the coarse, cold laughter as his eyes flickered towards me, the smile on his face wide and oh-so-false, "Its just…well, you could say that he fell in love with the sea."

"W-What?"

"The woman, Joey. The woman…she was pretty much the sea," the smile faltered at little as he kept his gaze on the dancing, spiralling angels, shadowy wrinkles creasing along his face, "Hell, she was the sea."

"I don't-"

"Forget it, Joey. Just forget it."

And that was that. With just a few words, sitting just inches apart, Will and I had once again fallen back into our own worlds. Our eyes left each other's as we turned away, my heart panging beneath my ribs like a seizing muscle. Behind us, hot against the backs, the roaring fire smoked the room with a delicious scent. Up above, the hot, wavering light made the orange glass glow a brilliant fire. My burning eyes studied the dulled metal keys intently. Beside me, Will's breath was deep.

For a minute or two, we just sat there, staring at the large, strange organ before us.

Not saying a word.

Not aloud, anyway.

Every part of me was beginning to tremble ever so slightly.

My heart screamed.

_Jolene._

_Jolene. _

_Jolene_

_Jolene_

"Is that what happened at you?"

The metal keys of the organ were shiny, so-ever-shiny as I kept my gaze on them, breaking the silence without even moving my eyes. My throat was coarse now, my tongue bitter and old. My fingers were clenched tightly together. Beside me, sitting on the bench, Will's shirt made tiny rustles as he turned-I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to turn and look him in the eyes again, to get caught under his spell again. No, no I won't; I just stared at the keys, the shiny, metal keys.

_I'm begging of you_

_Please don't take my man_

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. I'm talking about Elizabeth…and your child…did the same thing happen to you? Did she leave you?"

I was always one for direct questions.

Beside me, Will didn't even breathe.

For a few seconds, we just sat there in the silence, the keys of the organ very, _very_ attractive. My hair barely moved in the warm, slightly stuffy air. At my lap, my palms were beginning to sweat; as the song kept its rhythm in my head, my heart banging along with the beat against my sore ribcage, I suddenly had a desire to dye my hair red.

Don't ask me why, or _how_; somehow, in this little situation of extreme tension, in the giant, odd room, all alone with Will, the thought of silky red hair, much like Scarlett's' was incredibly _interesting_. Yes, I know I'm insane-I mean, they don't even have dyes for hairs during this era.

Or did they?

Maybe I should ask Sparrow. He does have such black long hair….

"Yes," Will's voice broke through my insane reverie, as soft as the whispering wind, "Yes, Joey. Elizabeth left me."

The heat lashed against my corded back, like the slashes of an ironbound whip.

"Oh," was all I said, simply because I had no idea what else I could possibly say to him. What else? So I just sat there, staring hard at the grime-covered keys as if there was some intricate puzzle hidden in their gleam, some riddle I had to solve. I mean, what the hell could I say?? _I_ asked in the first place, _I_ opened my big mouth and made him ans-

"We were married."

My breath squeezed away in my lungs.

My heart hammered to silence.

"Carry on."

And in the silence of the warm, against the striking of the heat and with eyes studying the firelight dancing on the metal keys, Will spoke in a quiet voice.

"Barbossa married us. Elizabeth and I…on this very ship, more then a year ago. No, no…on the _Black Pearl_, though it doesn't really matter. All that matters was that we were married. Not legally, of course…I mean, we didn't sign anything. The church didn't marry us-quite the opposite actually, seeing as Barbossa is nothing more then a-"

"What's your point?"

"The point is, Joey, is that I was married. _We_ married. Just before I became _this_, before I died and became the captain of this ship…. Elizabeth, you see, had to see me die. My wife…do you understand that?"

"I'm not a child, Will. Carry on."

"Fine…how do I-it was on our wedding day that I changed, that I was cursed to live ten years at sea. Cursed to the promise of immortality…I didn't know what to think, at first. It had been all so puzzling…we consummated our marriage on my last day on land, in a cave on a small island just north of here. It wasn't ideal, of course, for a wedding night between a groom and a bride-"

"I really don't need to know that. Please, Will. Just tell me what happened."

For a moment or so, the silence stretched between us like chords of an instrument, tight and trembling with excitement. My eyes kept on the silvery-green keys, studying with precise detail-beside me, Will barely moved, his eyes piercing into my heat-washed cheek like sharp, blood-tipped daggers. The edges of a white sleeve still peeked at the corner of my darkened vision, a hand travelling back down to his lap. Gentle heat, like warm, licking waves, washed over me from him, his body heat strong and insistent. His fingers were too close for comfort.

Images of Elizabeth and the child kept zapping across my mind, the tune of 'Jolene' still humming away.

My blood was turning cold.

Ice cold.

"I left, Joey. Left her alone, to serve on this ship. Left her for a promised ten years-she couldn't follow me. No mortal could, not into the other world at least; you, your brother and Scarlett are holding off our schedule, that's all….you see, we were separated on our wedding night. She had to stay on land for ten years while I….We sent letters though, every week. Without fail, we wrote to each other. I never failed to write to her…I missed her so much. So ever much. I used to dream about her all the time, used to pray each day to see her beautiful face again…"

_He talks about you in his sleep_

_There's' nothing I can do to keep_

_From crying when he calls your name, Jolene._

"She was…she was my everything, Joey. My _world_. When…I fell for her the moment I laid eyes my eyes on her, 10 years ago when she rescued me from my sea. The second I opened my eyes and saw her…I _knew_ she was the one. My one. My love. I fought for her love every single day, until finally…finally, she was _mine_. My _wife_. I…I loved her more then all of the world, Joey."

_I can easily understand_

_How you easily take my man_

_But you don't know what he means to me, Jolene_

"Then, she wrote me a letter. A letter about…about our child. She wrote she was pregnant and…when I first that, the first part, I was so filled with joy! I never thought, in a million years…_God_, Joey! I was the happiest man in the world!! My beautiful wife and a child…nothing else in the world would make me happy again!"

Every part of me was cracking away, breaking into many pieces. My body froze rigid on the bench. My eyes clouded over with pain. My throat wouldn't give. Beside me, on the bench, Will's piercing gaze never left me.

Not even for a minute.

"But?"

"But I read on," his voice was softer again, the energy and joy dissipating away like a white bank fog in a blustering gale, "I read…and I wished I hadn't because if I hadn't finished reading that letter, if I had just _stopped_….she wrote that she was marrying her father's old friend, Joey. An old navy officer, Phil, who is twice her age…Hark, she could be his daughter!"

His voice had cracked, like the splintering of wood under the force of a tempered fist. His breath had become shallower, his fingers drumming against the wood beneath us both. My eyes kept to those weird keys-there was something in his voice now, something that hadn't been there a moment ago. Something deep and broken, something false and heavy…

Something that made me want to turn around and pull him into my arms.

I concentrated on the keys.

"Why did she do that?"

"For the child, she said. For a good future for him…I didn't read on, you see. I-I didn't want to believe it was real…I didn't want to believe in any of it. I just….I just…"

"But its your child, Will," I found myself whispering as I slowly raised my hand, trailing warm fingers over the slime-slicked keys, "The baby…he's your son. Elizabeth had no right to take him from you." My heart was slamming around my chest, bleeding and screaming with all its might. The song refused to end in my head.

_You could have your choice of man_

_But I could never love again_

_He's the only one for me_

All of a sudden, Will's hot hand grabbed mine, the one trailing on the metal keys on the organ. I nearly panicked- a soft _yelp_ escaped my surprised lips as he quickly pulled me towards him, spinning me around in my seat. Dark blonde curls flew in the wavering darkness as I spun around to face him, his hand hot and rough around my own. Fierce brown eyes, dark and fiery in the light, met my own shocked hazel ones with a hot, unbearable pull. My entire being seemed to have lost any sense of control.

"What?" he snapped fiercely, biting down the word as he glared down at me, pure, sudden anger flashing across his fire-washed features, "She had _every_ right! Father or not…I wasn't there for him! I _couldn't_ be there! What kind of father abandons his child before he is even born?! What kind of man leaves his wife-"

"You didn't have a choice, Will!" I nearly screamed as I tugged back on my hand, anger flaring within me as well as I struggled against his hot, iron grip, "You were cursed!" His eyes were like sharp daggers against my own, the sudden anger like bolts of hot electricity. Within those dark pools, in those brown, angry eyes now staring at me, burning pyres of white-hot fire leaped about, rampant and wild.

_I had to have this talk with you_

_My happiness depends on you_

_And whatever you decide to do, Jolene._

"No," something had taken over him, something wild and unexpected as he glared down at me, his hand clenching hard around my own, "No, I didn't have a choice. I _never _had a choice. Because if what happened…because of that _stupid_ curse, of that damn _Davy Jones_-I lost my family because of _that_! I lost them-"

He was furious, extremely, utterly furious. For some unknown reason, in a matter of a second, Will had snapped into a rage, his bitterness engulfing him like a stinging plague. I had no idea what happened-he just held my hand between us, his knuckles white to the bone. Hot, brown eyes met my own, those beautiful bright eyes plunged into a tumbling sea of emotions. His nose flared red. Between, in the hot tight space, our hands were both beginning to sweat.

_Enough_.

Without another word, I jumped to my feet, pulling strained muscles as I straightened up in the wavering darkness. My eyes kept on him as he held my hand even more tightly, fury slowly itching its way into me. The white silk _swished_ softly in the dark.

He returned my glare with an equally, disturbed one.

"That's why you're doing it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The Fountain," My eyes widened as I tugged on my captured hand, my attention solely on the undead Captain, on Will, "The Fountain of Youth…that's why you looking for it! With Sparrow and Barbossa…that's why you've join them in the first place, wasn't it? It…it was your plan all along!"

"Joey-"

"You could have told me, you know," I gulped back a huge wad of salvia, tugging on my cramped hand as my eyes began to burn all over again, "You could have told me about everything. I would have under-"

"Joey, I have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Don't play dumb with me, Will! _I know_, alright?! I know why you're doing this all…hell, I can't believe I never thought about it in the first place! I mean, it all makes so much _sense_! Then again, I _only_ just learned about everything today…."

"Joey, you don't know half of-"

"Your family," I bit down as my voice choke, my heart squeezing tightly within my chest as Will's hot hand clenched harder over mine, "That's why you're doing it. That's why you're trying to get your mortality back, through the Fountain. That was your plan all along. Wasn't it, Will?" My eyes were burning up, as if pyres of hot fire were scalding away my pupils. Every part of me was beginning tremble, quaking with sudden shivers. Something hot glided down my face; I reached up my free hand and grazed my shivering fingertips along my warm-licked skin.

Water.

Warm, sticky water.

_God._

Now, I was crying in front of Will too.

"You don't understand, Joey."

"Oh," I gulped again, my jaw spasming in fierce protest as fingers weeded slowly out a hot hand, "Oh, no. I understand. I understand _perfectly_. You see, Will, I too know what its like…to lose my family. I know what its like to have them leave you."

I paused to breath, my nose so choked that my lips had to part to take in warm, tensed air. Will's hand was looser on mine now. Up above, at my face, hot tears were slowly making their way down my warm cheeks, like rivers of red-hot lava spilling out of sprouting geysers. My lungs were pulling tight, strapping me in. Something flickered in Will's angst eyes.

I took in another breath.

"But there's a difference, Will," my voice was squeaking now, my throat choking away my instinct to sob out loud as my heart panged fiercely, "There's a difference, between you and me. You see…my family is _gone_. Absolutely _gone_. I mean, there's no way in hell that they could ever return to me. No way. But let me tell you…let me tell you…if my Daddy and John could return to us, if they had the _chance_.... God help me, they would come back! They would- but you…"

I took in a deep, warm breath.

"You can lie to me, to everyone, but don't lie to yourself, Will. Ask yourself-would Elizabeth really return, Will? If you were mortal again? Would she return back to you?"

My heart felt nothing.

Will released me. With a drop of his eyes and pull back of his hot hand, he let me go abruptly, releasing back into freedom. His lips quivered in the wavering darkness of the roaring fire. Behind him, against the greenish-orange wall, howling moans echoed from the black, lifeless window. Within me, my seizing heart was turning as cold as frost.

A hot tear dropped down to my bare feet, warming my toes.

Something tugged at my chest.

"You don't know anything," Will's voice was low, a mere whisper in the quiet, unfolding darkness of the room. His eyes wouldn't meet mine.

My blood was turning to ice.

"Right," a crooked smile cracked across my wet face, my vision blurred to mere watercolours, "I forgot. I'm just a child, right? I don't understand anything."

My voice was breaking, giving way to the inevitable.

My tongue tasted like paper in my mouth.

Will's face was a blank sheet.

"And maybe you're right," I clenched my hand as the smile slowly fell off my face, the tears damping my cheeks a salty, sticky wet, "Maybe I don't understand anything. Maybe I'm just a child. But…but let me tell what I do know…"

Another breath.

"I know you are still in love with Elizabeth, no matter what you say. I know you love your son, and I know how much it pains you to see him grow up without you, to never know you. I also know that you have feelings for me, wherether you believe it or not, and that every time you look at me, every time you _touch _me, you think of Elizabeth. You think of how you were betraying her, even though we _all_ know who really is betraying whom."

Sorrowful eyes stared up at me, white-hot pain flashing across those sweet browns. A hand reached up to swipe away at my tears. My blood was frozen within me.

Our eyes met in silence.

"I know how I feel about you, Will, because unlike you, I'm not lying. I'm not lying to myself, for once-I'm falling for you, William Turner. Falling in love with you. And no matter how many times I try to talk myself out of it, no matter how many times I tell myself that this is _insane_…. I keep coming back to you. I keep thinking about you, loving every single part of you-your mood swings, your loyal heart, your irritating need to dictate my every action as if I were a child. …Yeah, I'm a kid. I'm stupid and immature and obnoxious and probably, most likely, going to get myself killed by the end of this wacked-out adventure…Yeah, its pretty definite."

I licked my tear-stained lips as I stared into those tumbling, brown pools.

My heart burst within my chest.

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

_Jolene._

"Yeah, I'm a kid. And I get it…I can't compete with Elizabeth. I can't. I'm…I'm just a second prize. A consolation, nothing more. I get it. Really."

_I'm begging of you._

"But to someone out there, to someone else…I'm done being your second choice, Will. I'm doing playing back up. No matter my feelings, no matter your feelings, I'm…done. I'm sorry but I'm done. I'm finished."

_Please don't take my man_

"Goodbye, Will."

**TA-DA!!**

**That's all for now, folks! Hope you enjoyed this little chapter of raging emotions. The next chapter promises to bring them back to the adventure, aye? And sorry…I promise to improve in my next few chapters. Really, really sorry!**

**Anyway, please review the story and leave any suggestions on how I can make it better!  
Thanks!**

XOXO


	25. Shoot the Monkey

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, except my OCs.**

**Listen up, ladies and gentleman, cause I've got some news on the story. You see, I have been bordering over an idea for months now, unsure if I should ever include this idea into my story. Finally, I have to a conclusion-I will!**

**It's a twist of legends and myths, making the story more original yet at the same time authentic. The next chapters will brood on this more.**

**So , yeah. Something interesting is coming up. So keep reading and thanks for all the reviews!! Really appreciate it, guys!**

The gun jumped in my hand, the choking smell of wet gunpowder flooding my senses. Mild pain shot up my tense arm. Before me, swinging up side down by the old rope, the evil monkey, Jack, screamed in protest.

I love this game.

Beside me, Jack yelled out a cry of excitement.

Jared just sighed.

It was stupid really, what we were doing. Pure stupidity. After all, if Barbossa were to come out of his cabin and look over here, over to the sun-drenched, empty deck of the_ Betty_, he might just want to kill us all over again- we were playing _'_Shoot the Monkey", a clever, incredibly fun invention of Sparrow. Don't ask me how he came up with it; all I know is that one moment, we were arguing over nonsense, spending the hot, boring day with wayward talk. The next thing I knew, Sparrow and I had become partners in crime-by some method of persuasion unknown to me, he had convinced me to help him capture that evil little monkey and bound him with a rope, trapping him into a tight bundle. The idea of the game, of course, came on much later.

Trust me when I say that kidnapping the monkey was pretty much the main idea.

The game was nothing more then a little consolation prize.

"Come on, love," Sparrow grunted as he reached out a flipping hand, black charcoal eyes gazing at me lightly, "It's me turn." Up above, among the sweeping white sails and pure azure sky, a white-hot disc of a sun grinned down in vengeance. My skin felt like it could just boil right off.

"Fine," I sighed heavily as I thrust back the metal gun, arms heaving at the disappointment, "Just hurry it up. I want to shoot it again." Beside me, standing squarely on the deck with masterful sea-legs, Captain Jack Sparrow caught the flying gun-the silver roil of beads atop his head, against the blood-red bandana, glinted in the fierce sunlight with a sharp, relentless light. Among his black sea of dreadlocks, in the midst of his long, unwashed hair, the other long strands of colourful beads glared harshly as well. Sweat had smeared the black kohl beneath his eyes to heavy, dropping eye bags. His odd-shaped hat sat quietly on a barrel.

Jared sighed again behind us.

"Watch and learn, love," Sparrow simply commented with a wild smile as he pulled the gun back towards him, adjusting it in his hand as he went-unlike for me, the long, silver-engraved gun seemed to fit perfectly in his hand, snug warm and tight in his sweaty paws. Smears of gunpowder streaked my own, wet hands.

Behind us, Mr. Gibbs yelled from up at the helm.

"Whatever," I sighed, rolling my eyes like a typical teenager as I brought my hands down again, resting them at my hips, "Just shoot."

Sparrow complied.

Without another word, a loud _bang_ resounded through the air, clouding my ears with the jolt of my own heart. My toes jerked helplessly within my metal boots-3 meters in front of us, hanging down from the mast with a gaping, white-fanged mouth, little Jack screamed agonizingly as smoking, black dust scattered all over his wrinkled, white forehead, burning into his thick, matted fur. Small, hairy arms struggled beneath the parchment-yellow bonds of the rope as the pain seared through him, his long, coiling tail whipping frantically around. Black beady eyes glared furiously at us from his up-turned head as the scream echoed through the air, slicing through the hot atmosphere like knife through butter. Off to the right, at the two other ships that accompanied the _Betty_, pirates ignored the scream, used to it by now-I couldn't help but wonder why Barbossa hadn't been told of it yet. Beside me, Sparrow made a thrilled sound of triumph.

"AH!" he yelled, dropping the smoking gun to his side as he turned back towards me, yellow teeth as bright and glaring at the sun's luminous face, "De head! I hit de head! Dat's a whole palm!!"

"Oh for the love of-That's unfair! You're better then me, obviously…it isn't fair!"

"Quit complaining and pay up, love," Sparrow just grinned in reply, a devilish smile cracking across his sweaty, tanned face, "You heard the rules."

"But-"

"Hand it over, now."

With an angry sigh, I rolled my eyes heavenward before reaching down to pay the prize -sitting at our feet, piled up like gleaming pyramids, were two stacks of beautiful, colourful gems. My gems, actually- the very same ones that I had pocketed back at Seadog's den, along with the jewelled sword that now rested at my hip. They were _my_ gems…even though Sparrow had managed to steal it from me in the end.

_It was still mine._

Yet here I was, playing for them with all my might.

I hate pirates.

"How 'bout yer give me dat sword of yers instead, luv? It's a mighty fine blade."

"Dream on!" I practically shouted as I went down on one knee, my hand swooping up a palmful of hot, gleaming jewels off the baking wooden floor, "I rather die then give you that." Strands of sweat-drenched hair stuck against the sides of my face as I moved quickly, the curls dank and lifeless against my shoulders. The back of my neck was especially hot.

"Yer know that can be easily arranged."

"Listen, you motherfu-"

"Would you two shut up?" Jared's irritated voice called from behind us, cutting through our conversation like a ship breaking through ice, "I'm trying to think here."

Without another word, I threw my head back, flipping my honey-gold curls in a bid to view the owner of the voice-Jared laid quietly on the hot, gold-drenched steps of the helm-stairs, his bare back leaning on the climbing wood as his arms stretched out as if in crucification. Hard, metal boots glinted at the end of his black pants as he drew them out over the lower steps, his entire body lounged on the stairs like a lazy, sun-baked lizard. Drops of sweat winked gold against his bronzed skin-his entire upper body was stripped bare, his even, packed muscles out on the display for the whole world to see. The glaring sun stripped bars of gold over his naked skin, licking his tanned, broad muscles like vibrant, glowing paint. Beads of gold-tinged sweat glided down his muscular arms, but dots of white travelling the rivers of his veins sticking out of the skin. Up above, his blue eyes were shut-his hair was a blaze of glory, a golden halo atop his head. His tanned, bronzed face seemed to match it evenly, except for his jaw-ruffles of an unshaven face stuck out of the skin, pokes of dark blonde already resurfacing.

It was good, though.

It made him look older.

"Think about what?" I slowly pulled myself to my feet, wiping the back of the jewel-laden hand against my sweaty brow as I turned fully to face him, "Scarlett?" In front of me now, against the steps, Jared lifted a lazy, blue eye.

"No, you igit," he grumbled, his voice hoarse as usual, "Not her." Muscles strained in his sun-drenched face as he spoke, a frown stretching across his handsome features. His nose wiggled in annoyance.

"RRRRRRight…"

"Shut up, Joey."

Forgetting the game, I strolled towards my brother, my palm still stuffed with gleaming sapphires and rubies. Don't worry. It wasn't as if Sparrow cared-he had abandoned the game as well, forgetting his prize as he strolled forward, towards the hanging, whimpering monkey. His black gun was held in a tight palm, aimed forward. Up at the helm, hidden in the sun's glare, Mr. Gibbs was yelling again.

"Quit lying, would'cha?" I sighed out loud when I finally reached Jared, my feet stopping just before him on the stairs, "What else do you have to think about here, other then that irritating Redhead?" Behind me, against my bare upper-back, my dark blonde hair hung limply, wet with sweat. Drops of perspiration trickled down the soft yellow of my shirt, staining into the brown leather; it was uncomfortable, really. I can assure you of that. To the side, yells were being exchanged on the other two ships.

"I'm not lying," Jared replied simply, closing his eye again. His long dark eyelashes fluttered against his sweaty high cheekbones. Beneath his face, in the dark crevices of his neck, his Adam's apple bobbed dangerously. My tongue was awfully dry.

"Besides, there _are_ other things to think about-like home, you know? You _do _remember that, right Joey? Home?"

Heaving an elaborate sigh, I rolled my eyes skyward. Jared could be so bloody irritating-once again, he had made a conversation about himself divert all the way to me. It was a practiced art form that he had perfected since birth-he had always used it whenever he was in trouble, where ether it be at the principal or our father. In either case, attention always got swivelled back towards me.

Of course, when it came to stupid things like winning a football match or scoring a hot, gorgeous girlfriend, the attention was _always_ on him.

"Don't be draft," I sighed again as I gingerly pulled my sweaty arms into a fold, the sharp, beautiful jewels cutting into my palm, "We're never going home. Besides, you're avoiding the main point." Behind me, a loud shot resounded through the air.

"Which is, Joe?"

"Scarlett."

"Joey…"

"Don't," I said simply as I moved forward, swivelling around and dropping down until at last, my butt hit against one of the sun-drenched steps, "Don't push it away. We need to talk about this." The sun was horrid against my every being. Lying beside me, sweat running down his naked torso, Jared opened his magnificent blue eyes-a long, muscular arm encircled around my sitting form, my body somehow having unconsciously settled itself in the nook of my brother's arm. Fleck of vibrant green, swimming in bright blue, stared up at me, emotionless. My legs lengthened leisurely against the steps.

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do," I sighed heavily as I glared back down at those blue eyes, furrowing my brow and ignoring all other sounds, "We need to talk. Now." Somewhere behind us, up on the helm steps, Gibbs was yelling all over again. My skin moaned and begged for a blast of wind. In front of us, in the hazy bow of the ship, another gunshot blasted, followed by the howls of a very upset monkey. Voices yelled beside us.

"_No, we don't,_" Jared frowned harder, wrinkles creasing through his face, "We don't have to talk about anything. There is nothing to talk about."

"RRRRight…. pretty, red head that you happen to be falling in love with, anger management problems, lost-from-home situation, lost-your-shirt situation, irritating sister, bumbling pirates…. yep. Definitely nothing to talk about."

"I hate it when you're sarcastic."

"That's how I roll, baby bro," I winked playfully, a smile flashing across my face before resetting again, my eyebrows rising high, "Anyway…don't distract me. I'm not letting this go."

Beside me, soaked in the sun's hot gaze, Jared let out an audible moan, his handsome face screwing up in distaste. Sweat bobbed at his upper lip-a thin moustache, but short, few strands of dark blonde had grown above his thick lips, spreading down his skin like rolling, short grass. His chest too had hair now- dark strands of wispy hair were strapped against his sweaty chest, snaking about his thick pack of muscles. They stuck out against his tanned skin; he needed a shave, seriously. I mean, he never had as much chest hair as he did now, did he? Not so wild and unkempt….

God, I need to teach him how to shave without a razor blade.

Knowing Jared, a lack of a razor blade was probably the only reason why he was mutating into King Kong.

"There is nothing to ta-"

"You like Scarlett," I interrupted him quickly, waving the jewel-laden hand to cut him off, "A lot. Like, a lot, a lot. Like a million times a lo-"

"You don't get it, alright?" Jared cut me off this time, his coarse voice heaving out in a deep, exhausted sigh, "You don't understand at all." Lying there, beside me, Jared's sweat-gleamed chest sank heavily as he draped a wet hand across his face, dragging it across his sun-baked features. His other arm still circled around me protectively. Joining in his sigh, I turned my gaze away from him.

"Oh, I know," I nodded my head wearily as I turned my head back towards a jumping Sparrow, slowly leaning down onto the steps, "I get it…you like her. You like Scarlett. You like her a lot. And it's killing you."

"Meaning?"

"I'm not stupid, Jared, contrary to everyone's belief," my body was sinking slowly, falling into a lie beside my brother on the hot steps, "I know you. And yeah…I know. _We don't really know each other_. _We aren't close at all…_. But I know…I know you. You're Jared Wolfe-whore extraordinaire. I mean, do you remember that one time, back in sophomore year, when you dated those three girls at once, without any of them of finding out? Do you remember? Man, that was _classic_-"

"What's your point?"

"My point, idiot," I growled slightly as my head hit against Jared's curled-out arm, my sweat-drenched hair meeting his own wet skin as my body stretched out into a complete lay, "is that you like Scarlett. A lot. And its _so_ not you." I was resting on his arm now, lying beside him as we stared upward together-white sails wavered in the cerulean sky, a perfect blanket of pure blue over our heads. The sun glared at the edge of our vision; it was so strange, lying there, in the middle of the ocean, beside my brother.

_My brother_.

When was the last time we had done this? When was the last time Jared and I had lied down head to head, gazing up dreamily into the perfect sky above? When was the last time we talked like this, about things that bothered us, complicated us? When was the last time we really _talked_?

_When was the last time we actually acted like brother and sister?_

_Like twins?_

He stank of sweat, not cologne.

His arm was hot and beefy, not soft and pillowy.

His heat was strident and persistent, not comforting and consoling.

He was Jared, not John.

My other twin.

My other half.

My only family.

_He wasn't my John._

He didn't have bangs for hair.

His eyes were not soft and kind.

He wasn't lithe and lanky.

He didn't wear glasses.

He didn't wear that stupid red hat.

He didn't have that cheeky, flashing dimples.

He didn't have that joyous, infectious laugh.

He didn't have a paternal, protective heart.

He wasn't my best friend.

He wasn't my favourite brother.

_He wasn't my John_.

He was Jared.

My other brother.

My Jared.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the fresh scent of the salted wind.

_For once, it didn't hurt as bad._

"I love her," Jared's voice cut through my reverie, his body vibrating out the words beside me. My eyes snapped open with a quick _click_; his voice was as usual, its normal hoarse and emotionless manner. His body heat stung against the side of my face.

"What?"

"I love her, Joey," his arm trembled beneath my head, his voice smooth and clear as liquid, "I love Scarlett." The sky above was an endless expense of beautiful blue-I wanted to reach forward, to stretch my hand into its never-ending depth. Thoughts began to loose itself into all the blue.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never felt this way before about anyone, Joey. No one at all."

"But does that mean you love her? Feeling differently about her, I mean…does that show that you are in love with her?"

"I think so."

"Then, tell her."

"I wish it were that simple."

"It is, stupid. All you have to do is walk up to her, and tell her how you feel. You know…Hollywood-style."

"This isn't the movies, Joey."

"It's a possibility."

"What??"

"I mean, think about it-things like this _always_ happens to people in the movies."

"And which movie, exactly, had two kids flying back into the past, 300 years ago?"

"Star Wars."

"_What_?"

"Think about it-you're Anakin Skywalker. Scarlett's Senator Padme. You two are in love with each other even though you are both from different worlds altogether. Okay…maybe you're not a Jedi…and maybe no one went any time travelling…but it's the pretty much the same thing. You love her, she loves you…just like Anakin and Padme loved each other, despite everything else. I, of course, am Obi wan Kenobi…. a younger, hotter version of him, though. You know, without the 'stache…. anyway, I am the wise, overbearing mentor who advices Anakin in all his endeavours, including those matters concerning his heart…even though he himself have feelings for Padme…Oh_ my God_…I didn't just say that!!"

Beside me, Jared burst out laughing, his voice rich and warm in the hot air. His arms vibrated up and down beneath me, his chest pulsating beside me along with his rich, lulling laughter. Mirth clouded all my other senses.

And then, I was laughing with him. Laughing and holding my sides, letting the rich sound flood out of my lips in thick, quick waves. Laughing against my brother's shaking arm, nodding my head against his soft gold head. Laughing together with him, our trills reaching high above and mixing together into one. Laughing with my brother and staring up into the sky, our gazes lost into the never-ending blue.

Laughing and forgetting everything.

Including Will.

"LAND-HO!" Mr. Gibbs shouted from above, his rough voice cutting through our laughter like a dagger through swirling water. Sweat crept down my aching neck. Swallowing my laughter with a quick gulp, I bolted upright upon the steps, my head spinning in protest. Long curls stuck against my bare shoulders as I rose up-in the hazy distance, beyond the bow and the white sails, the horizon loomed all the way round. Only, of course, it wasn't just a bare, straight line; a patch of green shadow loomed in the distance, sticking out of the horizon like the hump of a whale. It was long and hazy, an odd mix of different shades of green bordered by a soft white. Clumps of jagged brown rose out of its left side, like sharp, decayed teeth out of the face of a green-shaded monster. White dots of birds circled the misty, dark shadow. Up above, looming over the churned green, a tower of hazy grey peaked upwards, stretching up into a sharp pinnacle. Jagged, grey jaws climbed against one another, reaching upwards, never-ending. At the very top of it, of the monstrous giant of rock, black smoke billowed out in thick plumes, staining the clear azure sky with looming black. Scatters of wispy clouds encircled the grey point, hiding its very tip. Birdcalls pierced the roiling hot air.

_A volcano_.

A volcano island.

Oh hell.

I was definitely in a movie.

"We're here," I announced to no one in particular as Jared rose up beside me, his breath thick and strong.

"Here where?"

"Circe's, you idiot." Beside us, on the other two ships, the pirates were hurrying about, yells resounding through the thick, sludgy air. Sails draped heavily against wooden mast as they were being raised, curses and swears ringing across the ships. My dark blonde hair stuck against my back.

And Sparrow was just standing there, at the bow, against the cerulean blue sky and the approaching island. His back was rigid still, the odd-shaped hat completely frozen atop his black dreadlocks. Tanned, lean arms squared themselves against his small hips. At his shoulder, little Jack watched the incoming island with equal concentration.

As if he too, were thinking of what is to come.

Of Circe.

"Come on, Joey. Time to meet our mythical goddess."

Will wasn't happy about the plan.

No.

Not a single bit.

"You're not going, Joey," Will said firmly as he could, glaring at me furiously as he folded his lean, brown arms across the earth-brown vest, "That's an order." The end of his puffy white sleeves clashed against one another as he took on a stance of absolute authority, his strong sea legs anchored down onto the rocking wood as if they had been moulded into the ground itself; I would never understand, for the life of me, how anyone in the right mind could cover himself from head to toe on a day like this. He didn't even show the slightest bit of a skin-thick boils of sweat rolled down the sides of his tanned face, damping the dark curls to his skin. The edge of his white collar was already stained wet.

I swear I will never understand the man.

"Yes, I am," I rolled my eyes as I heaved out the words, running fingers through my knotted, sweaty hair as I threw a glance over my shoulder" Barbossa said I could come. And that's that." Opposite me, standing at the edge of the opening in the barrier, Barbossa made no suggestion of agreement-He was just standing there, leaning through the opening and yelling harsh, coarse curses down into the water below. Gnarled, wrinkled hands gripped the wooden fence tightly as he created a loud racket, his shaggy brows creasing together with rage as spit fired out of his mouth like cannonballs. The blue plume shone brilliantly on his sundial of a hat as his face melted into a fiery shade, the cat-yellow of his eyes wide and turbulent with absolute fury. His long, grey-brown beard wagged dangerously-at his shoulder, Little Jack held on to his master's hat, his vest glowing a ruby red as he peered down into the tumbling waves. Voices yelled back from below, from the waters-Scarlett's petite form moved slowly down the opening, down the rope ladder on the side of the ship. In the harsh sunlight and stale air, her head glowed like a dancing fire.

"_No you're not!_" Will answered yet again, his voice as strained and tight as corded wires behind me, "It's too dangerous for you." Sweat dripped down my half-bare back. Off to the left, Bootstrap yelled something at an enraged Barbossa, his voice as wet and coarse as usual. Black sails threatened above my head, blocking out the perfect sky. Pirates surged all around. Sighing out loud, yet again, I turned fully around this time, spinning on my booted heels as the sun bleated down against my weathered, tired skin. Wet curls stirred uncomfortably at the swing.

"_Will_," I said slowly, raising my hand towards the hard, staring man before me on the deck, softening my voice mockingly as if I were speaking to a child, " _It's an island."_

"Don't mock me, Joey," he snapped, thin, manicured eyebrows scrunching together into a frown, "You know what I'm talking about."

"What?" I cocked a single eyebrow at him, flinging my arm backwards, "That?" My fingers threw into the hot, blue sky, at the spectacle behind us; 200 yards away from us, sitting tranquilly in the deep blue ocean was Circe's island itself, its tall, granite volcano tearing through the cerulean sky like a sharp sword. It was nearer then it was before-it was no longer hazy, the colours and shapes distinct in their own right. White-capped waves crashed against the soulless white sands, dissipating against the rocks-the brown lumps that had look like jagged teeth from so far away were actually cliffs, mountainous, dangerous cliffs with pick-pokes of black holes for caves. Birds darted in and out of the green, flower-frosted canopies, their sweet calls piercing through the stagnant air. Whispers of pale clouds mixed with the black billowing soot, churning to a distant grey high above the untamed forest. The world smelt of fresh dew and hot salt.

"Wow…. a beautiful, tropical island-volcano…I'm shitting in my pants as we speak!"

"Don't be sarcastic with me, Joey," Will sighed exasperatedly as he swiped a tanned hand over his face, wiping away the crisp layer of sweat all over his skin, "You know I'm talking about Circe." All around him, at a respectful distance of a meter or so, Barbossa's very-much-alive crew bustled about, hoisting the dead sails and securing the anchor. Footsteps vibrated all across the floor-they were nothing more then a swirl of black-clad, sweaty bodies, their stinking body heat like a giant gulf of roiling hot waves. Leering, perverted eyes crept all over my body-even after about three weeks on these damn vessels, this good-for-nothing assholes still seem to find the sight of me appealing. Loose yellow sleeves draped across my brown bodice as I hugged my arms protectively.

Before me, Will was staring at me with dark, urgent eyes.

"Look," I sighed, taking in a deep breath of the hot, salty air as nails bit into my sides, "I'm not going to argue with you. _I'm going_." Behind me, Barbossa and Bootstrap were still arguing, their crude, rough voices clashing in the hot air.

"Joey…"

"Geez, Will!" I breathed out impatiently, bending forward slightly as I glared my eyes as hard as I could at him, "I'm not a kid…. Besides, we're talking about a mythological demigoddess here. How the hell can something that doesn't exist hurt me, huh?"

Will just stared at me in reply.

For a minute or so, we just stood there, staring at each other, eyes meeting across the giant void -the gulf was deep and wide between us, impenetrable, uncross able. It stretched on for a good few meters; amidst all the pirates, amidst all the swarming filthy men and the coarse cursing behind, we just stood there, two separate entities joined together by a single, invisible thread. Dark, impatient brown eyes met hazel ones-I couldn't look away, as if some magical spell had bonded me to that gaze. It was as if Mother Nature herself had held us still in place, freezing us in our stares as our gazes fused together, the two becoming one. My mind was numb and cold.

My heart raced.

_Stop looking._

It had been like this. Always like this, ever since that incident in Will's room three days ago. Always like this between us, always longing and far, ever since that night at the organ.

Ever since that night I gave up on him.

My blood chilled.

_Stop thinking._

That's all it's been-soft 'good mornings', quick, shallow smiles, adequate politeness and all its likes were the only things left off our relationship, the only humanly contact we maintained with one another. It was my idea, really; if I hadn't started it first, hadn't started treating Will like a acquaintance rather then just ignoring him like that, we might have still been acting like complete strangers, refusing even the slightest bit of contact.

We might have been still acting like children.

And they call me a child…

I didn't want think about that night, to talk about it-I didn't tell anymore. Not Jared, not Scarlett and almost most definitely not Sparrow. I just remained mute-the events of that night, three days ago, had been erased from the scroll of wanted memory, my mind doing all its best to block all thoughts about it. Tall walls, perched with sweeping barbed wires, hid that memory far, far away beneath my scalp; I didn't want to remember it. I didn't want to remember the pain I had felt, the loss and utter desolation that had seized me at that precise moment. I didn't want to remember that _feeling_, that _moment_, that _Elizabeth_…

Yet, every time I looked at Will, those walls seemed to crumble away.

Leaving me completely and utterly naked.

Like right now.

_Stop._

Taking in a deep breath, I closed my heavy eyes, shutting away the image before me. Behind me, Mr. Gibbs' voice was calling from far away, his rough words cryptic in the rampant noise. The hoarse yet strong voice of Jared seemed to join in as well. A pirate' sharp, sweaty elbow, dug into my side as he shuffled past. My hair was lifeless against my back.

My heart still screamed.

_Please stop._

"I'm ordering you as your captain, Joey," Will's voice cut through my reverie; forcing my eyes open with a snap, "_Stay. Here._" The sun seemed to bleach out the edges of my vision, narrowing my view. My breath flowed from deep within.

Rolling my newly opened eyes, I sighed all over again.

'Firstly, pal," I hugged my arms, shaking my head ever so slightly as I shoved all the emotions away, hiding all memories and thoughts behind that barbed wall, "You're not my Captain, aight? Period."

"You're on my ship, Joey. I am your Captain, wherether you like it or not." There was a weariness inching into his voice, a sort of tired manner as he gazed darkly at me, eyes urgent and demanding. Dark curls shuddered against his high cheekbones as he moved on his weight-behind me, Barbossa was calling someone's name, disrupting the argument momentarily. Seagulls cried from up above.

"No, you're not! Okay…maybe I _do_ sleep on your ship, all right? Maybe I do…doesn't mean that you're my-HEY SPARROW!! CAN YOU BE MY CAPTAIN FOR FIVE MINUTES?!"

Yes, I know.

I'm an opportunist.

What can I say?

Sparrow was just conveniently there, jumping lithely off the plank that connected his new ship from his old one, _The Black Pearl_. His metal boots hit against the black planks with loud, resounding _thuds _as he approached, somehow heard above all the noise-thick coils of dirty rope encircled the right side of his torso, tanned, ringed fingers clutching on to the top with great strength. His bow-shaped hat covered his kohl-rimmed eyes-dark, Indian Ink eyes gazed to the floor as he walked gingerly across, making a wide path through the sea of dark-clad pirates. His tight, tanned face was tensed up, concentrated on his boots. Black dreadlocks jumped about at his chest.

"HEY! SPARROW!!"

For a moment, the once-loopy pirate looked up at me, raising his dark eyes up from the black-paned floor. Muscles shifted ever so slightly as he met my gaze-within a second, he was gone again, back to studying his muddy, grime-crested boots. Beads of silver and bronze trembled at his chin as he continued onward.

What the hell was his problem?

Talk about mood-swings, people.

"There," I swivelled back to Will, throwing the most triumphant grin on my face as I stared at him, ignoring the stab in my heart that followed soon after, "See? Sparrow agrees…I'm not yours, William Turner. I'm Sparrow's."

_God._

Why the hell did that come out so wrong???

If Will had noticed that statement, he was a real gentleman-he said naught about it. Instead, he just sighed and folded his arms all over again, irritation playing across his handsome features.

"What the hell are you talking about? He didn't even say a word!!"

"Of course he did! Didn't you see…he lifted his eyes…there was a flicker in those dark pools…don't you speak 'Sparrow', Will?"

"Joey…."

"_I'm going_!" I threw my arms, eyes widening to an extreme, "Jared's going…Scarlett's going…. Sparrow, Gibbs, Lestrade, Barbossa, those two idiots….I am _not_ going to left behind here, with you and these freaks! I _won't_! "

"I'm not telling you again, Jo-"

"Cut it out, Turner," a cracking, angered voice called from behind, cutting through our conversation without a care in the world, " I need her." As usual, it sounded like the axing of strong wood-pulling my attention away from Will, I spun my hair around, throwing my head over my shoulder towards the sound of the new, distinct voice.

Captain Hector Barbossa was glaring at us now, his black-tipped, old fingers clutching on to his skinny, leather-clad hips. He was still furious, though; wide yellow eyes, infused with rage, glared down at us from amidst all the other pirates, the red of his wrinkled face fading though still not quite gone. Yellow, gold-tipped teeth curled over his dry lips as his red face fixed itself into a nasty snarl, the muscles along his saggy cheeks tight and gaunt with tension. His blue plume hat mostly shaded him-Little Jack watched silently from his perch as his master glared over at us, his stony scowl like the features of a hideous monster. The sunlight caught one of his golden, rotting teeth.

I smiled triumphantly.

"Need her?" Will's voice was just as tight, his dark brown eyes like spheres of gold in his agitated face as he returned the older pirate's glare, "What the hell do you need Joey for? Or other two…why the hell do you need this kids for, Barbossa?" Behind me, over my shoulder, Bootstrap stood to the side of Barbossa, barking strict orders to some other pirates. Sparrow's unusually silent form shuffled towards the rope ladder without protest. Mr. Gibbs' voice vibrated through the thick hot air. Scowling angrily, Barbossa barked out the next few words.

"De lass's got a silver-tongue. She might be useful with dem Circe. As fer de others…well, de lad was pretty adamant. As yer can see, I'm not in the mood fer arguin'." Beads of sweat rolled down his wrinkled skin, hiding into the dark crevices all around as he scowled in utter annoyance. Thin, chapped lips sneered in distaste; Sparrow moved silently, his head still bent as he leaned forward and tossed the bill of rope down into the waters. Down below, quite far away, a loud _thud _followed by Jared's angry yell cracked a little smile on my face. Weird, looking birds swopped in between the black sails, and onwards towards the deserted island. My skin felt like it could just smoulder off.

To the other side of my now half-turned form, Will's scowl dipped even farther.

"This is _Circe_, we're talking about," his voice was hard as he gazed over me, his dark, dark eyes intent on the glowering Barbossa, " She's delusional, more so then her mother. I highly doubt that a _child_ is going to talk some sense into her."

"I'm not a child!!"

"Yes, you are, Joey. Face it."

"You're only a few years older then me!!

"5, actually. More then enough to tell you that _you're not going_."

"I'm 18!! Or least…I was…back home…in the future…GOD DAMNIT, I'M OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS!"

"For Christ sakeness, let her go, Will," Bootstrap's wet, slimy voice sliced through the air in a sticky squelch, cutting off Barbossa before he could even speak, "We could all do with a lil' bit of peace 'round here." Irritation bubbled beneath his voice; snapping around again, I found him standing there, his dark, dead eyes glaring at me from across the distance. Thin, white arms draped across his hunched torso as he scowled darkly at me, his black, oily hair fringing over to block out half of his face. Wrinkles creased through his deathly-pale skin; I would never, for the life of me, understand how a man who had spend his entire life in the sun could turn out so pale and ghastly like that. Folds of white skin climbed out of his black shirt as he frowned with all his might. Those eyes could as well as freeze hell over.

I scowled back in reply.

I still didn't like him.

"Get down there, Joey," Barbossa growled after a while of silence, glaring at Will as he raised his voice over the swirling, coarse voices, "Get down there on de boat now. Get movin'." Giant, round jewels of spit flew from his mouth like bullets as he bit down on each word, irritation and anger burning into his voice. His strange eyes narrowed to slits of yellow. Little Jack screamed.

"She's not-"

"Listen, lad. I really don't have de breath to argue with yer anymore, not after all dis damn racket from dis lot…Yer lass's comin'. No questions about it. I need her, need her to talk to Circe fer us, need her to use dat tongue of her to-"

"You've got Sparrow."

"Yer know he's pretty much useless today, boy," Barbossa's scowl hardened slightly, cat eyes flickering as I arched a single eyebrow in curiosity, "He's all soften' now…No, I need Joey. I need her now. Besides, Circe may know where dat old witch Calypso is. Yer want to find her, don't yer lass? To solve dat little problem of yers?"

Oh, right.

I forgot.

Barbossa didn't know we were from the future.

Which reminds me….

I've got to corner Sparrow about the whole pretending-he-didn't-believe-our-situation thing.

Once he got out of his menopausal stage, of course.

With a quick nod at Barbossa, I swivelled back towards Will, my feet beginning to move-he was just standing there, a tornado of emotions swarming across his handsome faces, his sweat glistening in the sun. Heavy arms fell to the side, his dark, large curls plastered against the sides of his sweaty face. Dark, dark eyes squinted against the harsh, noon sun.

He wasn't happy.

Who were these days?

"Ciao, bambina."

Will opened his mouth to speak but he was too late-I was already moving, turning back towards Barbossa and the others as I clamoured forward, towards the opening in the wooden fence. Sparrow was already gone; without another word and ignoring the entire world, I jumped down after him. Heat streaked fingers hooked onto the damp rope as I fell into place above Sparrow, the grinding feet and sun-licked deck giving way to the shadowy, green-coated side of the _Black Pearl_. Faces disappeared before me as I moved- below me; Sparrow shuffled his way down, his lips caught tight for once. His black hat loomed just below my moving feet.

Jared yelled some thing to me from below.

It wasn't long before my metal-clad feet against hollow wood, _thudding_ through the humid air; I had landed on a boat, a tiny, black wooden boat that bobbed above the gentle waves in sickening, gut-wrenching rocks. An identical boat nodded away beside it-Scarlett and Jared sat but a meter away from me, on the boat that I was now in. They were as usual, their same outfits almost identical as they sat beside one another, blue and green eyes staring at me tiredly with indifferent, slightly agitated looks. Pretty red hair shivered against Jared's high cheekbones. At the end of our boat, Ragetti sat ready with the oar in his lap, his remaining eye boring into mine as the sun glided hot drops of sweat onto his newly acquired eye patch.

The other boat was not nearly as full-Lestrade and Pintel sat quietly on the bobbing boat, waiting to move on to the island. Their forms were silent-twinkling blue eyes and cunning, grey one watched me as I had descended down onto the boat, joining the whole lot of them. Thin layers of sweat crested both men's faces as they nodded along with the boat, the giant oar half-resting on Pintel's broad lap. Lestrade just watched me silently. Before me, walking steadily, Sparrow crossed over to the other boat, joining the older pirate and Lestrade-his face was stoic, his voice caught in his throat. Dark, kohl-rimmed eyes maintained at his boots.

"JOEY!!" Will's voice called from up above, coarse in the hot, stuffy air. Sighing, I lifted my weary, sweaty head upwards, swinging my damp hair against my back-above Barbossa's descending form, above his wavering feet, Will's hard, tanned face glared down at me, his dark curls swinging in the humid air. The white-hot sun glared just above his head.

"WHAT?!" I screamed back, gliding a sweaty hand up towards my brow to block out the fiery sun. Jared was muttering something off to the side.

"Come back safe, you here? I want you back alive!"

My heart protested against my ribs.

"Right…does it really matter?" I yelled back at him, squinting my eyes as I glared up at him. Beside me, on the rocking, unsteady boat, Barbossa landed with a loud _gruff_, Little Jack holding on to his shoulder. The blue plume wavered dangerously above the black.

For a minute or so, Will didn't answer, the brilliant sphere of a sun blinding out all of my vision. Beads of sweat trickled down my skin, pouring all over me in an irritating manner. My temper was slowly piking, the heat eroding away all sense. Beneath it all, beneath all the thoughts and emotions, my heart panged with a familiar dread.

Was it wrong to say that I still wish he were mine?

Up above, blending into my light, Will's voice responded firmly, unwavering and relentless.

"More then you would ever know."

**Ta-da!  
**

**Done for now! Not so pleased with this chapter-it really is not up to my personal standard- but I promise that the next one will be interesting…extremely interesting. Thanks for all the reviews and please tell me any suggestions that you have for the story! Thanks so much and until next time!!**

XOXO


	26. Finding Circe

**Disclaimer: I don't any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Hey, guys! This chapter is going to pounce into the deep of the plot now, climbing towards the climax. Circe's coming up and I promise you, things are going to be interesting…A LOT! I'm trying really hard to make it less complicated, since there are so many layers to this story, example: Joey and Will's feelings, Will's past, Joey and Jared's past, The Fountain of Youth….etc, etc…**

**I'm an amateur writer so please, bear with me as I juggle this story to the best of my abilities.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy!**

"HOW BLOODY LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE?" I yelled for the umpteenth time, sagging my sun-licked, sweaty back against the bow of black rowboat. The white-hot sand burned beneath my resting form, the tiny pebbled grains biting into my down-turned palms as the sun's merciless glare baked me in steaming white-gold. Sweat burned my eyes; up in front of me, standing on the sand against the giant green mount of a forest, Captain Hector Barbossa gazed over his shoulder at me, raising one of those weird eyebrows.

"I thought we all already talked 'bout it," the old man growled, his yellow, rotten teeth jutting over his lips as his wrinkled face lifted in a thick snarl, " Only Sparrow can find her." His black, flat hat shaded most of his face as pure distaste washed over his features, his yellow eyes glinting among all the sweat. At his shoulder, Little Jack watched the scene before us in rare silence.

"Right," I sighed in reply, hitting my sweat-drenched head back against the rotting wood as I closed my heat-sore eyes, "I forgot. Magic compass."

"Aye, lass."

Jared sighed off to the right.

I hate this century.

It had been almost an hour yet we were all still here, waiting on the untamed, white beach that bordered the green-frosted, volcano island. Black soot billowed up ahead, far up in the sky-in the miserable hour that had we had been here, waiting in the dire, stinging heat, the granite monster of a volcano had spat out more smoke, puffing out the black, chugging clouds like the stream of smoke from a tobacco pipe. The few, white clouds had disappeared into its growing arms-it was like looking at an erupting volcano, its mouth spilling out all its guts just before a massive explosion. Faces screamed out of the black, roiling clouds, like a giant oppressive monster growing and evolving just above our heads.

Still, I knew nothing about volcanoes.

For all I know, the growing, black cloud, that somehow had seem to grow at an accelerated rate upon our arrival, was but part and parcel of an ordinary volcano's live.

Then again, I knew nothing about volcanoes.

Beside me, standing at the ripe of the rolling, hot tide, Lestrade seemed to have read my mind.

"It's Circe, Miz Wolfe," his thick voice smoked through the air, accented and odd as usual, "Dat's her wrath dat's speakin'."

Looking up through the stinging sweat, I gazed up against the white-hot sun, turning away from the smoking mountain; Lestrade's sweat-drenched face gazed upward, towards the roiling black clouds that puffed up in the sky like a smoke trail from an old train pipe. His blue eyes were an unusual solemn-the sun's fiery rays shone through his skin, turning the fringes of his face a beet red as if the large man himself was turning translucent. A grim, stoic expression stretched across his hairless face as he gazed silently, his beefy, large arms folded across his enormous, white-clad chest. Dark metal boots shuffled against my laid-out thigh as the tide slowly pulled back, the boiling seawater damping both his feet and my butt. Black beads glistened with sweat atop his shaven head.

"Circe?"

"Aye, Ma'am," he nodded once, his hard eyes trained up above, "She knows we're here. And she ain't pleased."

The black boat rocked against my back.

"I don't understand," I sighed as I closed my eyes, turning my attention away from the other members of the little party as hot water licked against my down-turned palms, "I thought Circe's just a demigoddess."

Off to the side, Scarlett's melodious voice added in smoothly.

"Yes. So did I."

Without another sound, I opened a single eye-the petite, delicate redhead stood quietly off to the side, a gentle arm hitched against her leather-clad hips. Whispers of fiery red clung to the side of her pale face as her large, red braid hung limply to her waist-it was if nature itself could do no harm to the pretty Lady of England. After all, while the rest of us mere _commoners_ sweated it out, burning under the sun's lashing whip, Scarlett still looked as fresh as a lily-her sweat was barely discernible against her pale skin. At her side, one of Will's small daggers had been fitted into her belt, the weird, green hilt pressing against her small, white hands. Bright green eyes, still fresh and alive as dew, winked through the white-tinged air.

Beside me, high above against the cerulean blue sky, Lestrade tore his eyes away from the black clouds, shifting them down onto us again.

"It's true," he grunted in reply, squinting his eyes as if the sun was down here and not up in the sky, "It's true Circe's no more den a demigoddess." The silver of his rapier shivered not an inch from my face as he spoke, its tip nearly piercing the edge of my arm. My throat was dry as hell.

No.

This was worse then hell.

In front of me, Barbossa barked something crude.

"Then, I don't get it," Scarlett cocked her head to the side as she spoke, olive eyes like jewels of emerald against the sun-scorched backdrop, "How could she control the volcano if she's just-"

"De Gods are percu'liar creatures, Miz Errol. Deir' limits are beyon' anything we know."

Sparrow was shouting something back in reply.

Sweat crept down my sore back.

_Wait…_

"Gods!" I broke in, stinging eyes widening as the words hit me like a cold slap against my heat-streaked face. My heart jumped a mile as the warm water rushed over my sweaty fingers-_this was crazy_! I mean, what in hell's name could-

"Aye, Miz Wolfe."

"Are you telling me that there are _more_ of those freaks?"

Above me, Lestrade opened his thin, sweaty lips to reply-instead, Pintel's voice cut him off, slicing through the hot air in its thick, low slurs.

"Well, what did yer think, den?" he snarled in his unique voice, snapping my head to the left with a shake of damp curls, "De sea is de only thing dat needs god'din?" His words were tinged with cold humour as the sun whitened my vision-good old Pintel sat on the bow of the second row boat, his fat, pudgy butt sinking the black wood deep into the wet sand. Short, cubby legs dangled off the black boat-thick clear droplets of sweat glided down his unwashed, tanned face as he grinned rotten teeth at me, his whiting, scraggy hair draping around his bulbous neck. A ring of dirt, like a black necklace, adorned the pile of fats beneath his face. Up above, beyond his grinning, hairy face and yellow-stained eyes, his bald spot glinted with golden sweat, making it even shinier then before. A Cheshire grin of broken, brown teeth stretched across his devilish-looking face. Dark eyes winked with an odd emotion.

Beside him, standing on the sand with an equally bemused expression, Ragetti nodded his head with a goofy grin.

It was as if Pintel never went anywhere without his polar opposite-Ragetti was nothing more then a stick of a guy, skinny and bony like some under-fed child in a impoverished nation. It fitted him though-loose black rags, almost identical to Pintel's, hung loosely off his skinny frame, his large pants ending in thick metal boots. Shaggy, dark blonde hair-quite like mine-topped his small head, his skinny neck like a pick holding up bobbing face. Up above, past his hooked nose and chapped lips, a single dark eye bulged out of his sweat-drenched face, the other covered entirely by a thick leather eye-patch. Rotten, bug-teeth stuck out over his tanned skin in the silliest fashion.

The heat was giving me a ferocious headache.

These two idiots won't helping.

"No, you moron," I snapped as viciously as my parched throat allowed, squinting my eyes as I glared at the duo beside me, "I didn't think that _anything_ needed a god!"

"You don't believe in god?" Scarlett was speaking again, her voice as sweet and melodious behind me. In front of me, the comical duo of pirates drew their eyes off me, attention lost as they stared off to my right, at Scarlett. In front of me, limed against the giant green mess of a jungle, Jared's tanned figure made its way back. Barbossa was yelling again.

"What?"

"You know…a supreme being."

"Of course I believe in God!" I glared, sucking in the hot breath as the rushing warm waves wet my lower body in a sticky, salty scent, "At least…hell, where does Jesus even come in all of this?" To the right, under all our tired, squinting eyes, the ever-fresh Scarlett merely nodded in reply, green eyes bright with thoughts. A roll of liquid milk sweat rolled down the side of her pretty face. Dread and exhaustion plunged throughout my weary body. Frustration bubbled beneath my skull.

I hated this.

All of it.

The magic of the painting….Time-travelling…crazy, half-wit pirates….giant, diving ship…undead pirates…magical compass…immortality in a cup…mysterious map…mythical, untouchable gods….

Not forgetting Will, of course.

_God_.

I just want to go home.

Heavy, wet eyelashes hit down against my cheeks as I knocked my head back on the boat, sinking deeper into mushy, hot sand. Voices droned above me like the irritating buzzing of bees.

Please, God.

Take me home.

NOW.

It wasn't long-seemed like almost hours under the hot sun- before heavy feet moved against the earth, vibrating like thunderclaps in front of me. A lazy eye opened sore fully as a shadow shifted over me, blocking out the white-hot sun; Jared stood over my sitting form a dark shade in between the sombre figure of Lestrade and Scarlett's petite one. His handsome, chiselled face was dripping with sweat, the rough stubbles on his chin dotted with little clear crystals. Large, beefy arms crossed across rough brown tunic, reddened from the relentless sun. Up above, his eyes were not but slits of pure blue in his tanned face. His honey hair was dark with sweat.

Pure frustration splayed across his features.

"Is he done?" Lestrade voiced out, staring at my brother with the air of seriousness that he always seem to adopt on 'important' occasions. I suppose he had to be now, anyway; according to Lestrade, he had to represent Will on this expedition, a messenger to offer the undead captain's alliance with that witch Circe since he couldn't do it personally. According to the lovable, big man, it was extremely important job.

Serious, working Lestrade wasn't as fun as sweet, adorable Lestrade though.

I couldn't wait for him to return back to normal.

In front of me, but a small pint beside the towering giant of Lestrade, Jared frowned his face even more.

"Who? Sparrow?" He wrinkled his nose in distaste, blue slits flashing in agitation, "No. No, he's not done. Not even near it." As usual, his fists were clenched in tight circles. Off to my right, standing stiffly, Scarlett breathed out an impatient sigh. Ragetti mentioned something crude on the other boat. My head pulsed with anger.

"You got to be-it's been almost an hour!"

"Don't go yelling at me!," Jared snapped as he glared down at me, his dark, ominous shadow spreading a cool shade over my burnt being, "It's not my fault!" Up above, past their heads and in the bright blue sky, the dark cloud of ashes had spread higher, like an arm reaching out into the sky. Monkey hoots called from the dense jungle before us, far, far away. The waves were hot against my palms.

"Of course it's your fault, J. You're the reason we're stuck in this god-damn century in the first place."

"What the-YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WALKED THROUGH THE FUCKING PAINTING!"

"What the hell are yer two talking about?" Pintel's voice snapped off to the side, drawing my head down from my brother and off to the left, "What painting?" His bulbous shape seemed like the perfect anchor-in the blinding white hotness of the day, the older man's giant ass seemed to be spilling off his seat at the bow of the boat, his feet sunken into the sand to keep him still. Beside him, Ragetti watched with a confused, unblinking eye.

"None of your business, pirate!"

"Pirate's code, lass. Me entitle to any' thing me crew has to say, and that in'volves yer."

"What the fuck…can you freaking speak English? I have no idea what the hell you are saying!"

"I said-"

"You know what? Don't tell me-its probably just going to insult my very being, no?"

"Yer the rudest, most slime-bellying lass I've ever-"

"And you're the most pig-headed asshole in the entire world!"

"I would _impale_ you, lass, yer hear? I would stab yer miserable guts out right here and now, if only ye and yer bro'ther weren't under dat Turner's protection!"

"Oh wow…a fat little pirate wants to kill me…_terrifying_…"

At my last sentence, across the tiny space between us, the chubby form of Pintel jumped to his feet, splashing lucid warm water all about in his frenzied jump. Furious, yellow eyes glared down at me ferociously, like a feral animal ready to pounce on his prey. Chipped, black teeth gritted maliciously at me as his short form became but a shadow against the bright background, his pudgy fists squashed to angry clenches. Sweat rolled down his face in lengths.

He was fuming.

_Oh, yippee._

"Yer going to pay for that, lass! I mean it-yer goin' to get it-"

"Take one more step, Pintel, and I swear, I'll kill you."

"Look, lad, I don't have anything against yer, yer hear? It's just yer sister…."

"Miz Wolfe was just tea'sing yer, Pintel. She didn' mean it-didn't yer, Miz Wolfe?"

"Sorry, Lessie. Meant every word."

"Why, you flea-bitten mogul-"

"Joey, say you're sorry!"

"Perhaps we should just l-let dis lie, Pintel. She's under de Captain of the Flying Dutchman's protection…perhaps its best-"

"Shut up, Raggeti! This is none of yer problem!"

"Yeah, Rags. _Shut up_."

"Joey…."

"I'm going to kill yer-"

"Pintel, calm down now."

"Joanna, what you said was extremely-"

"Shut up, Red head. I don't need your advice, aight?"

"Joey, apologise to Pintel. _Now_."

"I'm going to pull yer scalp right off! Yer hear? I'm gonna take me dag-"

"No way! The last time I'm going to do is apologise to this ass-"

"AVAST!"

A loud cry disrupted our little argument, cutting me off and snapping all our heads in its direction; Captain Hector Barbossa stood at the edge of the green forest, glaring back at us with vivid, yellow eyes. Beneath his sundial hat and dead-still blue feather, his tanned face was covered in a glistening layer of sweat, dark wrinkles creasing his skin into a deep frown. Ringlets of damp, dark hair sank down onto his stiff shoulders, his wrinkled hands clutching the sides of his hips as usual. Up above, beside his snarling, grumpy face, Little Jack watched the forest in eager anticipation. A silver ring glinted at the old man's hand.

Beside him, the shadow that was Sparrow darted into the trees, but a blur of black shaking leaves and cracking twigs. The water bubbled beneath my scorched palms.

About time.

"Get yer lazy assess over here! NOW!"

Without a single word of argument, everyone charged to their feet; sweaty calves and strained muscles winced in protest as I jumped up from the sand, the water sprinkling at my movement. Yellow cloth stuck onto my skin. Every part of me ached.

In front of us, at the edge of the wild jungle, Barbossa and his pet monkey charged after Sparrow.

_Just great_.

Gulping back my thirstiness and ignoring my heat-streaked weariness, I chased after the 5 of my companions, lagging just behind as the forest closed in on us.

When I was kid, my father would always take my brothers and I hiking during the summer. It was a consistent habit; for 4 days, every June, the Wolfe family would travel up the blue crag mountain that bordered our little town, our packs full with every nourishment needed for a trip outdoors. A giant duffel bag, one our father often carried, was used to pack our foldable, canvas tent.

It was always perfect; the river was always clear and warm, perfect for a quick swim in its shallow deeps. The forest was always just manageable; the often-hiked pathways clear and straight up the mountain without any long detours. The fire was always just right, the perfect temperature to cook our caught fishes and taste our victory to the fullest potential. The sky was always ideal, so clear that the stars would wink down at us all night, dancing about in their separate constellations.

Camping up the mountain with my family was always perfect.

Unlike now.

With an exaggerated groan, I swiped the low branch out of the way, knocking it back with my sweating palm. Beside me, the mangled mess of moss and vines trembled as the branch brushed back, the wooden spikes sticking out of the green blanket like thorny, reaching fingers. A sick _squelch_ echoed through my ear.

Stupid jungle.

It had been hours yet we were still here, all 8 of us, wandering about the humid, endless jungle with no sense of direction whatsoever. It was like we were walking in circles; all around us, the whispering jungle seemed featureless, each tree and each bush as identical to the one beside it. Green clogged our every vision-vines like dark green snakes dangled in between us, separating us as we walked quietly in the untamed wild. Messes of moss grew on every plant in sight, blanketing everything in a thick, carpet green that made it almost impossible to identify anything. The air was thick as mirth.

Up above, high above our wandering heads, the canopy stretched like an endless ceiling, the leaves and branches of the giant trees holding hands as if to create a smooth slate of green. The sky was completely blocked out; trickles of faded gold danced through the tiny gaps between leaves, falling down upon us like showers of glitter and shine. It looked quite beautiful, actually-in the dark jungle completely devoid of light, the sun's meagre rays painted the air with a faint tinge of gold, making patches of green here and there glow and gleam like shining emerald. Off to the distance, at the base of a root-mess tree, a blue flower the size of my fist had caught a single ray of light, but a gleaming sapphire among all the green. All around us, the world chattered and chirped with life, animals and insects buzzing with normal routine as the jungle breathed out loud. Attentive, curious eyes watched us from the dark green shadows. Voices whispered in the near-dark.

Pintel crashed against a tree behind.

Idiot.

Don't get me wrong- I love nature. In fact, more then anything; it was one of the few ways that made me feel connected to the world, to the bright, endless universe around us. Nature was my own little telephone line with Earth. So, don't get wrong-I love nature.

Just not right now.

After all, here I was, stuck in the middle of a terribly hot jungle with all sorts of morons and creatures surrounding me. Not to mention that I was sweating like a beast.

And that my heart still tugged with a familiar name.

_Will_

Today was not going to my liking.

"We're lost!" Jared proclaimed behind me, piercing through the chirping of the crickets with an annoyed, frustrated growl. A bird cawed up ahead. Beneath my feet, the thick undergrowth _cracked _with the splintering of wood, as if I was crushing some poor animal with every step I take. Sweat bubbled down my hot skin.

"Amen to that," I murmured beneath my breath-I was too tired to talk, let alone turn around and agree with my brother. I was just too thirsty. In front of me, Sparrow threw his head over his shoulder, flicking his dark dreadlocks as he cast weary, black eyes back at us.

"We're almost there, lad. Have patience," his voice was just as tired as his eyes; sweat gliding down his orange face in thick roils. Black kohl was already smeared out in messy drips beneath his Indian eyes; his shoulders were sagged, as if some invisible weight bore down upon him relentlessly. His feet were heavy against the green ground. Up above, past his riddle eyes, a ray of golden light lit his lopsided hat, passing over as he walked forward slowly. Trinkets chimed in his hair, along with the crickets and other insects that surrounded us like an oncoming army. A golden compass shone dully in his weathered palm.

There was something different about him.

Something I had never seen before.

Something sad.

His lips were but a straight line in his weary face.

Beside me, lumbering about, Pintel grunted in reply.

"Patience?" He murmured, more to himself then anything else as his face deepened into a grouchy sulk, "Patience? We've been walking about dis god-damn place for 4 hours! What more patience does he want us to have?" He was like an elephant in a china shop; instead of snaking around the vines like all of us, the fat pirate whipped them out of his path, creaking wood and snapping leaves as the vines went flying. One of those long, snake-like vines caught me in my side.

I turned a furious glare at him.

He didn't seem to care.

And I was too tired to start arguing all over again.

To his right, at the end of our three-people line, Ragetti leaned to his left, towards his grumpy, sweating pig of a friend.

"You don't suppose dey would have us wait in the boat, no?" He whispered in a low voice to Pintel, his remaining eye kept up ahead. Unlike his lumbering friend, Ragetti seemed to have a skill of walking silently, his skinny, bony form slithering in between the dangling vines as smoothly as liquid. He was a tad bit clumsy though; one of his boots caught in a jutting root and the man almost tripped over. Off to my left, beyond the walls of green and cricking insects, a strange animal hooted through the shadows, a call of sorrow and dread. Tiny little mosquito's were beginning to attack my exposed shoulders.

Every part of me screamed for a cool shower.

Among all the chattering and muttering of the deep, dank life around us, Pintel started whispering again.

"What? And miss out all of dis? I rather'd hang by me toes den to be left guardin' de boats!"

"But its _Circe_, P-Pint. _The Circe_. You ought to dink dat we'll be much better off de farther we get from here!"

"Yer listen to me and yer listen to me good, igit-I've no idea why de Cap'tain's all lookin' for de sea-witch but….but de last time Barbossa went lookin fer somethin'-"

"Who is Circe, anyway?"

At my interruption, Pintel and Ragetti swivelled their heads towards me, never stopping in their pace as sweat flicked over in thick, giant drops. Behind us, Lestrade and Scarlett were engaged in some discussion, their voices too vague to be discerned. Jared trailed behind, muttering curses. All around us, the trees stuck out of the ground like dark, moss-covered pillars, holding up the green ceiling with mighty arms. Squirrels and other forms of animals hurried about the endless seas of tangled branches, chattering about in their squeaky, strange voices. Beneath us, _crunches_ filled the air.

The hot was pressing down on us, as if in a bid to suffocate us.

A tear of sweat rolled down the side of my face.

To my right, walking together like some comic duo, Ragetti and Pintel watched me with wide eyes, the latter including a snarl of rotten teeth on his face. A monkey hooted in the distant, only to have Little Jack reply it in return. Something lumbered through the bushes beside me.

"_What_?"

"You heard me. Circe. Who is she?"

Up ahead, Barbossa said something crude to Sparrow, his voice like the cracking of wood. Every part of me wanted to melt away, right down into the earth. My eyes were becoming heavy.

"What?" Pintel growled, showing his teeth as a pure look of distaste washed over his sweating face, his yellow-rimmed eyes squinted to mere slits, "Ye haven't heard of Circe before, broad?" His deep, sagging cheeks crinkled with lines-I frowned at his rude comment, furrowing my eyebrows together. After all, pirate or not, man should know how to treat a woman.

Even when the woman was a primitive, obnoxious slutty whore.

Pig-headed pirate.

The hot climate did little to dampen my frustration.

Hiking in a deep breath, I glared back at the bumbling pirate.

"Not from where I come from, no," I spit as viciously as I could, biting down on the words and doing my best to ignore the mumblings of conversation from in front of me and behind, " I mean, all I know about Circe is…well, apparently, she's the daughter of Calypso." Off to my left, a passing tree stood studded into the mossy ground-it was darker then all the other trees, its ringed trunk thick and wide as three people. Ferns and lichens decorated its dark design, swirling all the way up to its high, green top-at the base of the large tree, upon one of the several tangle roots, was a dark red imprint of a human hand, smeared through the wood.

For a second, my mind froze as I my eyes blinked all over again-it was still there though, a handprint with rough fingertips and a wide palm. Trails of crusty red, almost as dark as the wood, was slurred off to the side, as if the hand had been pulled away or something. A golden ray light, from the sky above the dark canopy, shone down upon the handprint like a glorified spotlight. My insides churned a sickening roll.

_What the hell_?

Jared cursed something crude behind me.

A lizard clicked at my feet.

Ragetti's voice drew me back towards the pirates again.

"Not just dat, Miss," he spoke in his usual, gobbly voice, his remaining eye bulging with intensity as he rubbed his coarse, unshaven jaw, "Circe…Aye, Circe's far more den just de goddess' daughter?"

"How so?"

"Well-"

"She's a witch, that's it!" Pintel interrupted, spitting viciously as he walked gingerly over a stuck-out root, glaring eyes always on me, "A conniving, man-killing witch!" His shiny bald head was covered in a glistening layer of sweat-in front of us, leading us all in a snail-pace hike, Sparrow and Barbossa conversed in what seemed like a civil discussion. Scarlett's voice sang behind us in a melodious pitch, like the strumming of a harp. Up above, among the clustered green leaves and swirling branches, a patch of sky opened up-the black-grey cloud smoke covered half of the hole, reaching into the clear sky hands with menacing hands. Streaks of warm, sunset colours tinged the other half of the hole-the sun was already beginning to set but at least, we were nearer the volcano.

That is, if that's where we want to go.

I really had no idea.

"Mind explaining that, sputnik?"

To my right, Pintel just rolled his yellow-stained eyes. Something brushed by my heel-it was Ragetti who continued, keeping that same, concentrated glare.

"Yer don't understand, Miss," he gulped, his goggle eyes somehow reminding me of a sweating, tanned goldfish, "Circe…There are stories about her."

The air was awfully thick.

"What stories?"

"Lots of dem…all of dem…she's a witch, miss. A bad witch. She does things….awful things…de stories yer might here…"

"What things?"

"It ain't fer ladies to here, Miss. Not fer pretty ladies like yerself at least…no, no…not at all."

"_Rags_…"

It was Pintel who continued now, waving his friend's remarks away as he leaned in towards me, his bulky form lumbering across the thick undergrowth with loud _crunches_. My feet, too, made loud noises-by my right heel, a strange insect crept about, twitching its colourful feelers as if curious or interested. Tiny little legs carried its elongated body.

Disgust revelled through me as I hopped aside.

"Ye know what happens to lost sailors, lass?" He arched an eyebrow, dropping his voice as if in a whisper. Helplessly, I leaned in, my ears straining to hear him-to his right, Raggeti too leaned closer, eye trained on me completely. Behind, there was a loud crash, followed by Jared's fluent cursing. My heart was suddenly thrilled.

"No."

"Well, let me tell yer," his yellow-stained eyes were even more weird and creepy then Barbossa, his rotten teeth like brown crags, "Let me tell yer, yer igit….I don't know if de stories are true, but…Old Captain One-Eye, de one at de 'Virgin Lady',always talk about her. Circe, I mean."

"Well, what does he say?"

Here, Pintel leaned in closer, his stinking body sending waves of retching stench all over me-it took everything in might not to puke down onto his shoes. Rows of rotten teeth gleamed at me in sudden pleasure; at the corner of my eye, I thought I saw an animal, perched high up in the tree.

It was gone in a second though.

Lestrade droned on behind us.

" Let me tell yer…dey say dat when yer lost at sea, around dis area…………_Circe gets yer_."

A bee buzzed by ear, causing me flick about in a frightful manner-I never had a love for insects, much less stripped large ones with a razor sharp butt. The tips of a dangling branch, covered with spiky leaves, scratched against my bare shoulders like clawed hands. Something churned within me.

"Right," I rolled my eyes, stepping over a knotted root as we continued to trudge forward, the air thick all around us " Circe's the bogeyman."

"I'm not kidding with yer, lass. Circe…Circe's dangerous."

"_How_?" I sighed as I gazed down at my knee-high boots, at the green-brown ground that crunched like broken bones beneath our feet, "How is she dangerous? I mean…all you freaks are giving me right now is that Circe 'gets' you…its not much to go on, really."

"And why de hell der yer want to know, anyway?" Ragetti gulped across the space, a paw clutching Pintel's arm. Up ahead, swirling about the vines and dark trees, Sparrow and Barbossa conversed in low tones, the golden compass still glinting in Sparrow's tanned hand. Little Jack sat comfortably on his master's shoulder. Behind me, about a meter or so back in the green gloom, Jared commented something in his hoarse voice. Crickets swarmed all around us like a manifestation, their cries surrounding us at all corners. Something creaked the dark branches up above. My tongue tasted like sawdust.

Not that I had even eaten any, that is.

"I like to know what I'm facing, before I actually do it."

" I though ye liked things unpredictable, miss."

"What ever gave you that idea, Rags?"

"Well, yer always seemed unpredictable-"

"Look, just tell me alright? Tell me what we're up against!"

For a second, in the whispering noises of the forest and the murmuring of the voices, Pintel and Raggeti exchanged a quick look, their faces splayed with an unreadable emotion. Yellow-rimmed eyes goggled down at a single, bug-like eye; their lips uttered no word as a silent message was passed between them, their eyes spelling words to each other. All around us, the hot air was beginning to smell differently- the stench of smoke filtered through the trees in a faint wave, like whispers of tendrils snaking through the dangling vines and tall trees. Sweat boiled down my bare shoulders.

A pair of eyes, much like a cat's, gleamed from under a thick, dark green bush dotted with silver flowers.

A lizard skittered up a tree.

"WELL?"

"We've already told yer, Miss," Ragetti gulped again, sweat streaming down his face, "Circe gets yer if yer come too close. At least, dats what de pirates always say."

"And I'm asking you…what the hell does 'get' mean?"

"She _kills_ yer, ye thumb-sucker," Pintel was growling all over again, leaning in towards me with a wicked, chilling snarl on his tanned, sweating face, " She grabs yer from her shore de minute yer land, dragging yer back to her lair whilst yer holding on, screamin' fer yer miserable life…She don't care if yer hurt or nothin'…she just drags yer by the hair, back to her hut…and that's where she _guts _yer alive, pokin' about with her magic-"

"Don't speak about it, Pintel! She might hear yer!"

"-slicing yer open with all her knifes and daggers…pullin' out all of yer slimy guts as if yer made of stuffin' or not…like yer were some rag doll…and ye'll be screaming enough to beat Jesus…de pain will be so horrid dat nothing else would ever make sense again…everything becomes black and white…yer will screamin' and screamin' and yer can't stop-"

"I highly doubt that, Pintel…why didn't she pick us up from the shore then? No welcome party?"

"Aye, lass…she's waitin'…waitin, watchin' us from de bushes like some she-devil about to pounce on yer and rip yer heart out-"

"And cook yer! She'll pounce on yer and cook yer alive, like yer were no more den some rough-clawed animal from de ground! She'll drop yer into a pot of-"

"Nay, Rags, she eats dem alive, no? Remember what Old One-Eye said…she rips dem and pulls deir guts out…she makes dem hurt 'till they're near death…den she pounces on dem and eats dem…bites into deir blood-stained flesh with her sharp fangs…tearing chunks out of yer shoulder-"

"Lord, no, Pintel! I don't want to have chunks pulled out of me shoulder!"

"I don't mean-"

"Shoulder? Why, I prefer the heart."

It was a clear voice, a smooth accented voice that cut Pintel off in mid-sentence like a blade slicing through the air. My heart jumped in my chest as sharp intakes of breath muffed through the clearing beside me, my mind freezing as footsteps ceased in their paths.

It was as if time itself had frozen in its place.

The _whipping_ sound of a rushing blade pounded through my head.

Standing at the edge of the mangled clearing, beside a giant, tall tree that pierced through the dark green ceiling, was a woman. A beautiful woman- she stood like a myriad against all the mangled green, her sculpted, tall figure like a marble statue of old. She wasn't pale though; her skin was of a rich ebony, like the colour of cinnamon sticks or freshly-brewed coffee with a tint of sugar. Black locks, thick and luscious in giant rings, streamed down her rigid back and firm shoulders like a never-ending waterfall, so dark that even the shadows behind her paled in comparison to its beautiful shade. It was like staring at Miss Universe or something; raven curls curved over her heaving bosoms like little, straggling streams of black, hiding part of her perfect figure behind a dark blanket. A pale green dress hugged her curvaceous body, like an emerald liquid flowing smoothly over her dark skin. It was short though-the flighty, smooth material cut just above her knee in jagged strips, exposing her muscled, brown legs all the way down to her bare toes. Her arms were bare too, green strips of blowy sleeves hidden behind curls and curls of pure black. A brown belt, with an empty holder, encircled her dainty waist. Up above, among the luscious wild of her hair, a striking face stood out; it was perfect in every way, her rich, coloured skin flawless and her features, perfect. Black bangs, like liquid, fell just above her fiery brown eyes, long eyelashes shying against her cheekbones. Pops of muscles jumped at her perfectly sculpted jaw. Her red, red lips were pressed in grim line.

Her beautiful eyes were as hard as stone.

Her lean arm was stretched out.

A silver sword shone in that hand.

The sword's bitter edge glinted at Pintel's chubby neck.

_Wow._

_A Femme Fatale._

I really wanted to clap, but something told me that that would be extremely inappropriate.

Beside me, on Pintel's other side, Ragetti had jumped back, his skinny, tanned hand reaching down to his gun as his eye bulged in complete and utter shock. A cry escaped his lips within a second. Behind and before me, the rest of our little party wasn't a minute too slow-cries of surprise and the _thangs_ of freed rapiers echoed throughout the dense clearing as head swirled towards out newcomer, feet stopping in their paths as shock emanated throughout the group. Pistols cocked up ahead as voices raised up into the green blanket, curses and yells pounding through my head. Jared screamed my name from behind.

My heart was racing.

From fear or excitement I couldn't really tell.

Sweat pulsated down my bare back.

"Stay where you are," the stranger spoke again, her voice as clear as a fresh spring brook. Her red lips moved like liquid-every part of her face was strained, from the muscles in her jaw to the tension in her dark eyes. The smooth arm that held the sword remained as firm as a rock as she grasped the hilt with ferocity, never wavering the blade an inch. Hard, brown eyes travelled across the clearing with an almost regal air. In front of her, partially under a golden ray of sunlight, Pintel stood like a cowering beast, his neck at the mercy of the polished sword. Sweat streamed down his bulbous face as he studied the sword at his neck, his large yellow-rimmed eyes quavering like a dying candle. His booted feet shifted noisily.

Some part of me was trembling too.

On either side of my now turned figure, the rest of my party fell into silence at the stranger's voice-Sparrow and Barbossa had turned around, their metal guns cocked ready in their tanned palms. On my other side, Lestrade and Jared had drawn out their rapiers, though _why_ anyone would give my brother a weapon was a mystery to me.

I mean, didn't they know he had issues?

Scarlett cowered behind Jared like a scared mouse.

A sound pressed against the back of my throat.

I wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a cry.

Euphoria stirred within my chest.

"Nobody move," the stranger was speaking again, her arm steady and composure cold and silent, " Nobody move or I'll kill him." There was no accent to her voice, none whatsoever. No trill, no melody, no frenching; it was just a voice, a plain, clear voice that, for some arcane reason, reminded me of dancing butterflies and clear, crystal rivers. A chill crept up my spine at the sound of her strange voice. In front of me, beside the cowering Pintel, Ragetti gulped with ferocity, his rapier held up as he stood a good distance away from the newcomer. His out-stretched hand trembled like the leaves in a gale. Sparrow breathed out a quick, shallow sigh. My fingers were as numb as ice.

Despite it all, I still wanted to take a cold shower.

My throat was awfully parched.

For a moment or so, in the never-ending noise of the restless jungle, no one uttered a word.

All was silent.

Finally, with a heaving, irritated breath, I drawled.

"Go ahead. I don't really care."

In front of me, standing rigid against the green backdrop, the beautiful stranger tilted her head, her dark eyes flashing towards me. Her red lips were pursed firmly; something dark and violent flashed in her brown eyes, muscules popping at her jaw. To my side, between Jared and Lestrade, Scarlett gasped behind muffled hands. Pintel shuffled beneath the sword's gleaming edge with wide, frightful eyes. Barbossa cocked his pistol again.

"Excuse me?" There was that voice again.

"You heard me," I rolled my eyes, closing my hands over my leather-clad hips as I returned the stranger's sweltering glare with my own bored one, "Go ahead and slice him-trust me, you'll be doing me a massive favour."

In front of me, Pintel turned furious eyes at me, though apparent fear shone at the edges of his yellow rims. Ragetti was gulping away beside him, his rapier quivering until it was nothing more then a blur of flashing silver. My insides bit with unease-what the hell was I doing?

The stranger raised a single, snaky eyebrow.

"I _will_ do it, you know."

"I know. And I'm saying…go ahead."

"_Joey_…"

"Shut up, Jared."

"You are bold, child," The stranger spoke again, her arm and hand firm as she kept her sword to Pintel's trembling, sweating throat. She spoke in that odd way again, like fairy laughter or something-it was so alien, so foreign that a part of me yearned to hear that voice again, for it to stream through my mind like a rushing river. Dark, fiery eyes, strange in its every right, glared at me silently, her eyebrow raised in question. Behind her raven head, among the twirling trees and leaves, a dark green snake, as wide as two fists, encircled a branch in slow laps. Crickets cricked by my feet.

Gulping back an orb of salvia and ignoring the other sounds around me, I stared back at the stranger, eye to eye.

"It's been said."

"What makes you think that was a compliment?"

Off to the side, Sparrow was murmuring something, curses by the sound of it. Feet shuffled over the undergrowth with _creaks_ and _crunches_- if I had reached out into the air, I might have just corded all of the tension into thick, long ropes. Rigid, melting fingers strayed at my side.

I sighed all over again.

"What makes you think I care?"

For a second, no one said a word as the stranger and I exchanged glares-hers was cold and rigid while mine was…well…bored. After all, I didn't know how to react exactly; here I was, staring at a strangely clad woman with tempting eyes and an alluring voice, watching her as she held a razor-sharp sword to Pintel's bulging neck.

I mean, how _are_ you supposed to react something like that?

Especially when I felt like melting in the very ground.

For a second, no one spoke.

Sparrow's breathing, for some, reason, was pounding through my skull.

Lestrade's giant wave of body heat crashed against my sweltering being.

I gulped all over again.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the strange woman spoke again.

"What is your name, child?"

Her voice was just as odd, though something was changing in her eyes-the dark stirrings was dwindling, her arm easing slightly against Pintel's throat. It was too late though-a line of blood, thick and red against his skin, had streamed down the sword's edge, tipping over and dropping to his collar in fat blots. Ragetti's breath was rasped beside him.

"Joey," I answered simply, drawing my arms all the way up to mid-section, crossing them tightly. At my hip, my rubied sword hung heavily against my leg-for some odd reason, subconsciously of course, one of hands trailed near the gold hilt, fingers curled in preparation.

Hanging with these pirates has made me paranoid.

_Geez_.

"Strange name," the newcomer commented leisurely, cocking her head slightly. Up above, leaves rustled as a hot draft brushed by, rushing over the enclosed jungle like a whisper in the ear. Sweat bubble down my skin as all our hairs stirred slightly in the breeze, the stranger's dark hair like a nest of black, black curls. Sparrow was muttering again.

"Not as strange as yours," I rolled my eyes again as arms tightened around my body, "Your name is _Circe_. What kind of name is that?"

Pintel's adversary raised both eyebrows.

"You know my name," she stated simply, her beautiful eyes widening slowly as her luscious lips parted into two, tulip red parts. Her arms slackened even more as all her attention was focused onto me, freeing Pintel by just a little. Feet shuffled and murmurs echoed from either side of me. Little Jack hooted to my left.

"Well…you _are_ dressed like some gay fairy."

"If you know me…then you know-"

"Yes…I know…you're some all-and-mighty demi-goddess, daughter of Calypso, blah, blah, blah….look, if you want to kill Pintel, just go ahead and do it. Don't just stand there, talking about it."

Yet again, no one spoke. In front of me, beneath the woman's-Circe's-blade, Pintel's animal-like eyes darted towards me, frightful and alarmed. Anger raged in his dark flecks. Beside him, Circe just watched me quietly, her eyes cryptic and mysterious in their own right. Jared's breath was ragged, like a horse's panting after a long run. Smoke stained the roiling, hot air.

I clenched my hands against my bodice.

Blood rushed through my veins.

Scarlett coughed.

Finally, with a little sigh, the tall demi-goddess moved-dark skin glinted gold with sweat as she swung her arm back towards her, withdrawing the rapier from Pintel's neck with a swift, almost liquid movement. Before her, Pintel jumped back with a renewed energy, grabbing at his fat neck as he hopped a wide step away, out of danger. Relief flooded his features, though all the previous emotions were still there, flashing across his face in churning, black waves. Beside him, Raggeti exhaled an audible sigh, his giant Adam's apple bobbing away at his throat. On either side of me, silence remained thick in the hot jungle air, except for the relieved sigh of Scarlett and the hot huff of nostrils from Lestrade. To my left, a pair of feet shuffled forward nosily, moving by just by an inch.

A bird cawed overhead.

Drawing her sword back, the ethereal being that was Circe moved fluently, her strong hand reaching forward and swiping the dots of blood of the tip of her blade's edge. The sword came out clean, and before all of our watching, agitated eyes, the demi-goddess pulled back and sheathed her sword back into her belt, sliding silver against her green-clad waist.

Something about her reminded me of Peter Pan.

Why the hell did I go and talk to her like that for?

'_Cause you're an idiot who's addicted to danger,_ that nauseating voice echoed within my head again, answering my very question and clouding out all my other thoughts in that sickening tone.

You know, if that voice weren't my conscience or pure common sense, I would have ripped it out years ago.

After all, it never did me much good.

_Why the hell did I go and talk to her like that for?_

Standing behind all the dangling vines, beside the shivering Ragetti and Pintel, the beautiful immortal raised her head, her dark hair stirring in the invisible draft. Flashes of hot fire burned in her dark, dark eyes like merry nymphs of the flame, bright and alive with an energy so profound, so strange. Her perfectly sculpted lips were tilted upwards now, the edges of the slender reds twitching in a half smile. Smooth, liquid brown arms curved at her waist in sharp triangles. An unscarred palm remained on the wooden hilt of her sword.

She was so strange, this demi-goddess of the forest.

This Circe.

Why wasn't I freaking out yet?

"You know," she was speaking again, all her attention bade on me as her dark eyes gazed deeply into my own, unflinching ones, "I haven't met another of my gender since nearly 20 years ago…yet, if _this_ is how young women act these days, then I safely say that I am pleased."

She spoke with that odd trill again-I was beginning to think that her voice was just like that, like something magical and beautiful all mixed together. Beside me, Lestrade shuffled at his feet as Jared made an audible gulp farther behind. The pair of feet inched a step closer. Little Jack screamed.

My clenched fist tightened even more.

"Well, I'm not from around here, so techni-"

"Nay, you aren't," Circe interrupted smoothly, inclining her head as she watched me with those dark, endearing eyes of hers, "You aren't from around here at all."

"No…" I let my voice trailed as an eyebrow shot up to my brow, my eyes studying her as well-there was an unearthly regal nature about her, in the way she spoke and the way she carried herself. Dark brown eyes studied me intensely, as if I was page in a book; it was unnerving really. Extremely unnerving.

As if those dark brown eyes could read right through my very soul.

"You're from far, far away, aren't you?"

Without pausing and ignoring my brother's sharp intake of my breath, I answered the demi-goddess, swiping a buzzing bee away as I went.

"Yes…I suppose. Quite far."

"And where is that exactly?"

In the hot, smoke-stained forest, her words chilled me. Icy chill.

For some arcane reason, Circe's simple question had frozen my mind, clouding over all thoughts at the possibility….

_Stop._

_Think._

After all, how bad could it be telling a demi-goddess that Jared and I were actually from the future?

Right?

As I opened my mouth to speak, another voice cut me off short, stopping my jaw in mid-air.

"Oh, she's no-one!" Sparrow cried as he jumped in front of me, hitting me with his flapping arms as the undergrowth cursed under his sudden weight, "Absolutely no one at all….juz dat eunuch's new lass…honestly, I personally dink his taste gone down a wee bit from de last time…"

His black dreadlocks and knobby hat hit hard against my face as hopped in front of me, his mouth spitting the words before he even landed-he had been him, I realised, that had been inching forward towards us. His tanned hands hit against my shocked body-he towered in front of me, almost like a shield in front of me. Repulse surged through my veins as the stench of his unwashed hair slammed against my face in a hard, unnerving slap. Helplessly, I staggered back a little into a tangling vine.

All around me, everyone had remained their silence, keeping their lips shut as the scene unfolded before them. I couldn't see them though; Sparrow's lanky form and broad shoulders blocked my vision as he stood in front of me, his awful dreadlocks and smelly old hat filling up my world.

God, he stank!

Without another word, I tried to squirm past him, to take a large angle around him and towards Lestrade so that I could once again be eye-to-eye with Circe; as I moved though, Sparrow seemed to have sensed it. With his eyes still kept in front of him, he reached back and grabbed hold my arm, holding me in place. Pain screamed through my trapped wrist as his hand clamped over mine, staggering my weak knees as he halted my attempt all together. Up above, faint, evening light streamed through the green canopy in patches.

"OI!" I screamed into his ear but the pirate didn't seem to mind; his hands were like hot handcuffs as he kept his hold on me, keeping me right behind him. It was painful though-I struggled and pull but _God_, the man was strong! Frustration began to well within me as Sparrow refused to even budge under all my attempts, his foul smelling hair engulfing all my senses.

For once, Jared didn't make a sound.

I was on the verge of screaming myself.

And then…

It hit me.

_Sparrow was protecting me._

He was standing in front of me like a shield, protecting me with his own very body.

His hands were holding me back, stopping me from getting around the shield and putting myself in danger.

Sparrow was protecting me.

_From Circe._

For the first time in my life, I stopped fighting-with a pull of dread, I eased my hands in Sparrow's and shrank back behind him, looking down at my feet as my vision was once again blocked off by Sparrow's bulk. My damp, honey curls brushed against his wet back as I helplessly leaned slightly against him, letting my strength go as a hollow, nauseating feeling overcame the stench of his rotten hair. Salvia gulped back down my throat at the unprecedented emotions.

Sparrow was protecting me.

From Circe.

_For a reason_.

Hey, I didn't like the man.

But something told me trust him right now.

Jared was murmuring something to Scarlett.

Little Jack hooted quietly.

My insides clenched with apprehension.

_Why was Sparrow protecting me from Circe?_

_She seems….decent…._

Sparrow's grip loosened over one hand.

From somewhere behind Sparrow's shoulder, out of my view, Circe's beautiful, enchanting voice spoke once more.

"I see if you've got yourself a new girl, Jack."

The voice was as per normal, not a reaction displaying in her tone at all.

As if she hadn't witnessed Sparrow's obvious attempt at protecting me.

Her voice was muffled though.

Off to the side, Lestrade was murmuring too now, only to be answered by my brother again. Despite the heat, a sudden stroke of ice seemed to slither up my spine-Sparrow's mere action made me want to dig a hole and bury myself in it.

For some reason, I just wanted to stay behind Sparrow, in his protection.

Away from her dark, fiery gaze.

All cocky, self-confident emotions of before have seemed to evaporate into the wind.

I have no fucking idea why.

Jared whispered again.

"She's not me girl, Circe, and yer know it."

My heart clenched beneath my brown bodice.

"Do I, Jack?"

I sank deeper into Sparrow's sweat-stained back and revolting dreadlocks.

Nobody said a word.

Sparrow's grip remained strong on my hand.

Every part of me wanted to re-trace my steps and take back all I said, all the cockiness I had done towards the demi-goddess.

God.

Why the hell did I had to go talk to her like that for?

But she seemed impressed with me, right?

Right?

_Right?_

Stupid, endless mind.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Circe spoke again, her voice as clear and crystal as a rushing spring.

"Enough of this."

**Ta-da! End of chapter!**

**I'm not really sure about how I ended things of with Joey's confused, boggling thoughts…I'm sorry if the change was too drastic…and for leaving things off with a cliff hanger of sorts….**

**Sorry…**

**Anyway, I will be trying to write soon as possible but school has been really buggy lately, so it might take a while. Sorry to all of you guys and really, THANK YOU for actually taking out the time to read my stuff. You have no idea what it means to me.**

**Lastly, I would just like to say that Fanfiction, for some reason, doesn't allow my asterisk-break in the chapters. So yeah…real sorry about that.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and please suggest anything that can help me! Thank you guys so much!**

**XOXO**

**P.S. Sorry about any missing words or grammatical error…I kind of did this in rush! Sorry!**


	27. The Wicked Witch of the West

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys, and I hope you enjoy this one too!**

**As for Circe…well, you're probably wondering how I came up with the name for Calypso's daughter. In actual fact though, I didn't-in Greek Mythology, Calypso is only a sea nymph and her sister is called Circe. Thus, I decided to use that name, to make things seem more real.**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

**Chapter 26: The Wicked Witch of the West**

It was a skull.

No doubts about it.

Sitting there, swathed in the evening tan lights of amber and gold, the dark eye sockets that had once housed blinking eyeballs watched me in a silent stare. It was hypnotising-white bone, hard and cold against the rough tabletop was tinged in the flavour of the fading day, a myriad of gentle, warm colours playing across its smooth surface. The gold cap of one of its few remaining teeth glinted in the soft glow; even in death, the man wore a crooked grin, as if he had been laughing away just as the chopper hit his neck. Carvings and deep trenches marked the old bone along its empty mouth and dark hole of a nose, grimed with dirt and remnant flesh. A red bandana, like the colour of fresh blood, encircled its top in a loose, odd fashion.

The cooling touch of the mosaic sky kissed against my tight skin.

Jared breathed in an irritated sigh.

Without another word, I reached across the small gap and snatched the large, human skull off the table, my fingers wrapping around its smooth contours with an almost instinctive sense. It was like marble beneath my skin-little poke holes, the size of pints, pricked at my fingers as I brought the priceless object back towards my chest, its weight so light and perfect in my arms. Polished corners and slicked edges glided under my trembling fingers, its surface smooth and cold as ice itself. Red cloth tried to unravel as the skull slowly made its way towards me, it's dark, soulless eyes never once leaving my own.

It was like holding a face in my hands.

A face that was now gone forever.

My stomach growled beneath my shirt.

In front of me, standing directly behind Scarlett's seated form, Jared moaned out an impatient breath.

"Put it down, Joey," he groaned with a tired face, glaring at me from across the room in his usual way. Flickering blue eyes caught the sun's last rays-like everything else in the room, my brother was bathed in the fading glow of the day, his dark, tanned skin an unearthly purple in dusk's reaching light. Dark blonde hair, messy with sweat, seemed almost black; before him, sitting at one of the many stools that bordered the circular table, Scarlett rested her chin in a delicate hand, her lips pursed in silence. Dark, olive eyes seemed black in the wavering light.

In response, I flipped my loose curls to glare back at my intrusive twin.

"Don't be rude, Jared!" I snapped, pulling the skull closer towards me without really thinking at all, "He's not an _it_…He's Albert. He has a name!"

"Fine!" Jared gritted his teeth in annoyance as those dark, tired eyes intensified down upon me from the other side of the room, "Put _him_ down, then. He's not yours." His giant arms seemed like no more then moulded, purple-tinged slates of marble across his bulky form-despite the cooling touch of the fading day, my brother still perspired like a beast, a patch of cold sweat damping the white sleeves under his arms and the starched collar rimming his neck. Dark eye bags, a creamy purple in the light, sagged beneath his flickering blue eyes, but another evidence of his pure exhaustion; despite the slump in his shoulders, and the weary dark lines all along his face, Jared stood mostly upright, his feet squarely apart. His jaw was set in a tight lock.

Our glare continued for a few more seconds.

The cool breeze of the fading day ruffled my honey hair.

Behind me, sitting among the piles of herbs and plants beside the open doorway, Barbossa interrupted our miniature glare contest with his low, cracking voice.

"Yer bro'ther is right though, lass," he crocked, drawing my attention away from Jared and towards him with a swing of my head, " Yer shouldn't be touchin things dat don't belong to yer, especially what is left of a person." My eyes left my brother to settle once again on the aging pirate-just like me, Captain Hector Barbossa sat on one of many stray stools that had been scattered throughout the room, his tall, rigid back leaned back against the hard, wooden wall. His body was completely relaxed; long, booted legs stretched out against the wooden floor as he leaned one arm against the nearby table, his wrinkled fingers curving around the edge of a pot of a brightly blooming cactus. Up above, his face was as usual, with its deep wrinkles and weary lines, his shaggy thin hair straddling his shoulders in a flurry of mess. At his chest, against the purple and red that blanketed him in a soft kiss, silver buttons glinted like winking eyes. Sweat brimmed his hairy upper lip.

For once, Little Jack was not with him.

The red bandana around the skull's forehead rustled against my chest as I drew it nearer, hardening my gaze at the older pirate.

"I'm sure Albert doesn't mind," I retorted, cradling the skull as if it were a baby in my arms, "I mean, he's already dead."

"Aye," the captain nodded his weary head once as his darkened yellow eyes gazed at me from his cosy corner, "Aye, dey do, lass. De dead still care what happens to deir remains." To his right, a door less gap had been caved through the wall, spilling the gentle rose and warm colours of the dying day onto the floor-beyond the opening was the wooden terrace, its curved perimeter covered with blooming flowers and large, green stalks of so many variety. Further away, past the terrace, the jungle woke with the night, their awakening calls reaching high up towards us. Crickets chirped along with the countdown.

Albert was snug and warm in my arms.

For a skull at least.

As I opened my mouth to retort, swinging over my body to face the Captain in my argument, the sleek, slurring voice of Captain Jack Sparrow threw me off all over again.

"Dat ain't de matter," he voiced out in a smooth tone, drawing my head with a quick _snap_, "What's wrong is dat yer actually _named_ de thing." Once again, my hair swung in the motion-Captain Sparrow stood at the other end of the room, but a feet from Jared and Scarlett at the large circular table. Like everyone else, he too was painted in the gentle colours of the dying day; he leaned beside the main door, his legs stretched out as he blended into the dark wall behind him. Long, black dreadlock fell over his tight shoulders as he crossed his arms and leaned back, his kohl-rimmed eyes watching me with his usual state of amusement. His odd shaped hat was gone-instead, it now rested on a nearby stool, leaving his red bandana exposed to the world. From this distance, all the way at the other side of the room, Sparrow looked like some alien from Star Wars or something, with his dark tanned skin mixing with the slight kiss of purple that blanketed the world.

Any expression of concern and protectiveness that he held showed towards me earlier in the day was long gone, only to be replaced with his usual sardonic manner.

A little evil grin crept at the edges of his lips.

Pintel and Ragetti were whispering something off to the right.

Clutching the cool skull, I rolled my eyes to a painful orbit.

"Of course I named it!" I said simply, frowning towards Sparrow as all my attention now bore down upon him, "_He_ used to be alive, ain't it? He deserves a name."

"He's dead, luv. Pure and bred dead. He's nothin' more den a piece of…of bone with'out no flesh, no skin…he's not even breathin'-"

"Really, Sparrow? Would you like me to call you an _it_ after I've killed you? Would you really like to be an _it_?"

"We're talkin' 'bout yer sanity here….why de yer call me Sparrow?"

"It's you name, ain't it?"

"My name's Jack, luv and if yer want to address me by 'Sparrow', den yer got to use 'Captain' be-"

"Your name is Sparrow and I'm not change-"

"I can't believe you two," Scarlett cut through out conversation, her sweet melodious voice thick and smooth in the cool breeze, "Here we are, sitting in Circe's very own tree house, and all you two can do it argue over a _skull_!" Her voice was quite sudden, mind you-jolted slightly out of the train of thoughts, my eyes pulled away from Sparrow to rest upon the sulking red head. She was as before, with her chin resting in her small, pale hand and her red hair pulled back behind her in a loose, single braid. Her pale skin, as white and soft as a lily, had been painted with the soft glows of the sunset, making her green eyes blacker then Sparrow's for some reason; even then, in her sulky, sour mood, Scarlett looked as lovely as ever, her red curls devoid of life in the sky's blush. Behind her, Jared bulked over her petite form like a domineering bodyguard.

Gross.

I breathed out a sigh, almost at the same time as Sparrow did across the room, and hugged the cool skull closer towards my chest, enveloping it in a criss-cross of arms.

"Well, Redhead," I looked at her bluntly, meeting her dark, slanted eyes across the circular table and large space of air that separated us, " I'm sorry. Did you want to talk about something else?"

My voice dripped with an eerie sense of sarcasm.

At the circular table, right before Jared, Scarlett raised a delicate dark eyebrow.

"Yes, actually. Like our _predicament_."

"Oh…why didn't you say that you wanted to talk about our impending deaths?"

"No one's dying, Miz Wolfe," Lestrade spoke out from the corner of room, his voice thick with accent as usual, "Not today, any' way." My eyes glanced momentarily over him-he was standing like a statue at the window to the left, his entire, large form painted in the crimson shades of the fading day. Sweat still beaded his shaven head; long, muscular arms, about the round about of a man's thighs, crested together in a fold as he leaned against the glass-less window, his hands dropping through the air and over the sides. His large booted feet were tilted in an odd manner as he leaned his head against the dark wall, exhaustion rippling through his muscled being. Flickering blue eyes, dull and tired in the purple shade, watched me lazily from his introvert post.

I couldn't find a way to answer him.

Without another word, we all retreated back into our worlds, silence dwelling over us once again as the exhaustion and weariness of the day pulled us back into our own minds. After all, it had been a tiring day-the sun had leeched our spirit and strength out of us as we had waited on the beach for an hour and then, trek up the impenetrable, stifling jungle for almost 4 hours. It had been hell and our muscles still ached from it.

Fuck, even the thought of it now is sinking my bones into a lethargic mode all over again.

With a quiet sigh and stroke at the dead man's head in my arms, I ignored my silent companions as I pivoted around on my stool and faced the glass-less window behind me; outside the gaps and beyond the wooden porch, light was fading into oblivion. The sun was no longer in sight-streaks of bright orange and red stripped across the purple sky, like claw marks in a blanket of fresh paint. Hints of blue still dabbed the sky through it was the long, never-ending dusk of the tropics that engulfed the world now, giving everything beneath it a tone of rich violet. Even the sea consented to its mauve ways-far away, beyond the wide, emerald sea that lay before me, the sea stretched to the horizon in a dark purple, like a beautiful gem of indigo widening out in an endless reach. Pink felled the horizon with its stray clouds, the entire scene like a painting concocted from the mind of a genius artist-it was that magical, the ending of the day.

Like a dream.

It was getting darker, and the forest below was awakening.

Into the velvet skies of crimson and lavender went the cries of birds and apians, their sweet calls like a fresh spring morning right after a downpour.

You must excuse me.

When I am exhausted and ready to sleep, I tend to love all that surrounds me.

Even the billowing volcano off the side, the one that fogged up half the sky and filled the air with its salty breath, did little to stop my wondering eyes.

Especially with Albert in my arms.

For the next few minutes, all of us in the room kept our silence, the many windows of the airy tree-hut cooling the place with a perpetual breeze-all the way up here, in the tallest tree on the island, the air was forever cool. Content slowly sunk its way into me as my eyes wandered over the beauty that surrounded us so quietly, any discontent with Sparrow and Scarlett washing away as I drank the world in.

Off to the side, Ragetti and Pintel were discussing some 'important' thing.

On the purple plains of the ocean, the three pirate ships bobbed as usual, but dots in the never-ending violet.

_Will._

A part of me wished that he was with me now, watching the beautiful dusk by my side.

A part of me wished that I could die.

In the small tree-hut, high above the ground in the airy room, no one spoke as the day slowly died away.

"Here we are!" It was an odd voice that cut through the silence, like a knife slashing through flesh and bone. Startled, I turned towards the source of the voice-Circe glided into the room, walking past the equally jolted Sparrow with a grace and posture deemed fit for those of royal blood. Her dark, beautiful hair trickled down her broad, even shoulders like gushing, black streams; dark, clever eyes strolled across the room as her delicate, bare feet brought her forward, making absolutely no sound against the hard, laden wood. Liquid brown legs, smooth and sleek in the violet light, moved gently beneath the folds of her short green dress, the silver sword jingling at her waist like Christmas bells. Up above, her face was as beautiful as the moment we had first laid eyes on her; sculpted, perfect lips pursed slightly as she entered the room, her high cheekbones flushed with the colour of the rosy sky. Her heaving bosom rose up and down beneath the soft green silk-in her bare arms, the demi-goddess carried a large tray covered with several bowls, her strong hands clenched tightly to the sides. Her dark eyes were as hard and cold as usual.

She was as beautiful as ever in the indigo shade.

Her newly arrived presence seemed to wake everyone up.

From their lazing poses, all our little party quickly straightened up, whispers cutting short as back were pulled straight and faces lighting up at the arrival of the demigoddess. Even Sparrow reacted-muscles popped at his tanned jaw as Circe bristled past him, his back straightening to a razor sharp as his eyes caught sight of her. To my right, among pillars of books and a cluster of even more plants, Ragetti and Pintel cut off their discussion, their three eyes widening to gobbles at the witch's arrival. Even I, plain, old, rebellious I, found a need to straighten my back and fold my hands and skull on my lap.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen.

I too think that this Circe character has casted some spell on us.

Either that, or we are just absolutely scared and cautious around her.

…

I'm going for the first one.

Without another word, Circe strode past Scarlett's seating form and planted the laden tray down onto the flat tabletop. Black bowls, the colour of the ash cloud outside, trembled at the impact-a sweet smell, like fried pineapple or hot pumpkin, penetrated through the air as the tray came slamming down onto the table, triggering off my stomach into a fit of seizures with its luring, addictive ways.

After all, the last time I had eaten had been at noon and yes, I'm a girl prone to everyday teatime breaks.

Hunger unexpectedly gnawed at my stomach.

How can anyone be hungry and not even know it?

In front of me, beside the shying Scarlett, Circe had begun taking the bowls out of the tray.

"Come, eat," she said simply as her dark hair fell across her face, a curtain of black as she concentrated on the her menial task at hand, "You all must be starving." Her voice was as when we first met her-like a breath of spring drifting across my face, a warm laughter spreading through my heart. It was lovely and, at the same time, so odd all together.

What kind of person had a voice as captivating and intriguing as that?

_Gods, obviously._

A cool breeze pulled at my hair.

To my right, beside the door that led out to the terrace, Barbossa was the first to move, standing up from his stool and striding towards the circular table in slow steps.

"What is dat?" His voice drowsed as he sauntered forward, his wrinkled hands angling against his hips in a perfect pair of triangles. Dark, metal boots thudded against the floor at his slow-moving steps as his grey-brown beard wagged slightly at his movements-I had never heard Barbossa sound so polite before. He reached the table with his few steps and stopped right there, watching silently as Circe emptied her tray of black bowls onto the tabletop. Behind me, up in the sky, the night was slowly making its approach, the sky darkening its purple and red glow over all things in a gradual pace. An owl hooted from one of the several trees below.

Things were becoming oh-so-hard to see.

I clutched Albert even closer to my chest.

"Dinner, if you will have it," Circe answered in her odd voice, tilting her head up slightly to look up into Barbossa's yellow-cat eyes with her own dark ones. Dark curls shifted at her head; with a final movement, she settled the last bowl down onto the table, planting it firmly down among the other bowls with a slight tremble to the wood. Beside her, sitting firmly in her seat, Scarlett cowered under her presence, gazing down at her purple-tinged hands with furious concentration. Jared and Lestrade watched with equally passive expressions. I didn't even want to bother with that bumbling duo.

Sparrow had blend into the shadows.

My insides clenched tightly together.

With a slight wave of her hand, the beautiful demi-goddess called us forward-no one said as a word as we all complied, my butt shifting off the stool as I tucked Albert beneath my arm. My legs felt like lead as I moved forward; by some unspoken consent, we all reached for the bowls, the sweet smell drifting up into the cool, smoke-tinged air as we all, somehow, did as we were instructed.

Definitely a spell.

Not fear.

Nor worry.

Just an evil, demi-goddess spell.

Without a word and with Albert still stuck under my arm, I gazed down at the hot bowl in my hands-it was the size of both my palms, it curved design fitting snugly into my open hands and radiating a heat so warm, so luscious that despite the overall temperature of the day, I couldn't help but lick it up. The interior of the small bowl was another matter altogether though; an icky grey slime filled the dark bowl to the brim, thick and heavy as mud itself. It was like wet cement of something-it was as if somebody had eaten a generous amount of dinner and then, decided to puke up all over my bowl. Clumps of something large-dung?-swam about in its thick depths, sticking out of the grey slush like mountains piercing out of a smooth plain. The smell was wonderful though-it smelt like a freshly cooked custard pudding, sweet and tantalizing in all of its right. A large, handmade spoon, made out of cane, stuck out of the grey murky depths.

My insides did an automatic lurch.

The jungle cried from below.

As the day died around the purple and us slowly melted into the growing black, my voice broke through the silence yet again.

"Is it poison?"

From the right, Ragetti gave out a loud gulp as all heads sprang up from their bowls, turning all attention towards me yet again. Opposite me, standing quietly beside the cowering Scarlett, Circe raised her dark eyes at me, cold and dark without a single thought.

The corners of my vision were getting darker.

Sparrow watched from the shadows with sparkling humour in his eyes.

"What?"

"Poison…this soup…is it poison?"

For a second, no one spoke as Circe raised a delicate eyebrow, her dark lips pursing even more in her beautiful, angular face. Her dark curls, thick and luscious, stirred in the gentle breeze-around the small, airy room, my companions were coveted in an odd silence, their voices caught as they watched out exchange with silent eyes. Jared looked like he was about to come over and box me hard on the face. At the corner, Lestrade's face was as emotionless and passive as Barbossa beside him. Pintel was too busy slurping up his soup.

Every part of me was screaming for me to shut up.

Circe was as calm as ever.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the strange woman tilted her lips upwards, her green sashay sleeves bristling in the breeze.

"How interesting…" Her voice trailed in its usual, odd trill, her dark hard eyes trained solemnly on me , "Why would even think that, child? After all, its just tapioca soup."

"Well, you were kinda of slicey-dicey with us earlier on-"

"Doesn't mean I was out to kill any of you. I was just being cautious-it is my island after all. Strangers are often not welcome around here."

"Right….like those stories-"

Before I could continue any farther, the great demigoddess had interrupted me once again-without a single ounce of warning, she threw back her black curls and laughed, a rich and beautiful sound crashing down upon us all like the surging waves against the broken cliffs. Head snapped up in quick attention; it was like the tumbling of a waterfall, the strange music gushing over the darkened room like roiling clouds pulling for the storm. Hearts stopped and bowls stayed in mid-air as all eyes fell upon the laughing witch, her curtain of dark bangs hiding away most of those strange eyes. My stomach lurched once more beneath my still heart. Ragetti choked on his soup.

There was something eerie about that laughter.

Jared gulped visibly.

"Stories!" Circe cried, ending her odd, intoxicating laughter with a weary wipe at her eyes, her sculpted lips drawn open in an obvious smile," Ah, stories…. they are such peculiar things, are they not?" Dark brown eyes drew back from the blackened ceiling to gaze once more at me, though now those strange black orbs were tinged with laughter, a sparkle glowing in them. The smile brightened her wondrous face completely, making her more beautiful then ever-as the darkness loomed over us and the chill of the impending night crashed together with our dead silence, that smile slowly vanished, fading away into the growing abyss.

Circe slide her tanned hands down the sides of her green-clad thighs, eyes focused on nothing but me.

No one touched their soup.

Albert was getting cold against my chest.

Anxiety threatened to tear me into shreds,.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Circe spoke again, the smile now completely wiped off her radiant face.

"Let me guess," her voice sounded like the summer rain as she lifted her eyebrow yet again, her face impassive and still as usual, "You've heard about the ones where I rip out the heart of sailors and devour it within seconds…. or the ones where I pluck out human's guts…. stories, my dear, as you can see, are not always true."

There was something off about the way she said it-her eyes were hard again, though the twinkle remained, shining in the near darkness like a pair of glowing candles. Her face was as usual again; the smile was gone but her features were pleasant, her lips tilting upwards slightly. Behind her, beside the patch of darkness that was the door leading to the main hall, Sparrow blended into the shadows, his features disappearing as fast as the light left the world. Off to the sides, Lestrade and Barbossa remained utterly still and passive while Jared had moved forward, putting his hands on Scarlett's shoulder protectively. Ragetti and Pintel froze in the darkness beside me.

Outside, the light was almost gone, the purple and red hew of earlier having fallen into a dark, eerie indigo.

Albert's red bandana caught in one of the buckles on my bodice.

The bowl was turning cold in my palm.

"So you don't eat people?"

"What nonsense!" Circe answered simply, her eyebrow rising even higher as her odd, fascinating voice reached another key, "Of course I eat people! As much as I can get of it, of course." It was as if the simplest thing-her voice and face barely changed as she answered my question, her arms kept down against her thighs. Not an emotion stirred in her face as all remnants of the earlier mirth dissipated into the darkness-her expression was just…just. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as the words spilled out of her mouth, as if she had just said a very common thing.

Like eating human beings was part and parcel of life.

No one spoke.

No one even breathed.

In the looming darkness and the calls of the jungle below, all of us remained utterly quiet, our hearts stopping to a complete standstill. It was a dreadful silence-my heart hammered in my ears as I tried to process the information, a chill spiking up my spine at a rapid speed. My mind fogged out on its own; nothing, nothing at all made sense as I gulped back the newly found knowledge with a sour, horrid taste, my entire body freezing up in the dark. Albert trembled against my still chest.

Wait.

_What?_

Faces became ghost white in the encroaching darkness.

My fingers grew completely numb.

It was Jared who finally broke the silence.

"Soooo," he dragged out the last word, glaring down at Scarlett's vibrant head as his knuckles paled against her brown-clad shoulders, "All gods and demi-gods eat humans then?"

Opposite the room, standing but a feet from him, the enchanting creature that was Circe slowly swirled her head, black curls dancing as she pulled her eyes off me to settle their hard, emotionless gaze on my brother. A small smile tinged at her lips again.

"Well, of course we do!" She said simply enough, her lips smiling slightly ay my brother's downcast face, "What else do you think we survive on? Fishes? Plants? Animals? We're not as primitive as you humans, surely."

"Of course," I found my voice once more, drawing heads back to me yet again, "Eating humans are so much more sophisticated."

All around the small, dark room, voices visibly groaned out as faces paled in the shadows, my companions shooting glares at me or just simply gulping back their growing anxiety and fear. Circe reacted differently though-with a flip of her luscious curls, she grinned at me once more, her sparkling white teeth shining out against her even dark skin. Twinkling flames bloomed in her eyes as mirth radiated from her yet again, her face glowing with the sudden, unforeseeable joy-how did she do that, anyway? You know…be all calm and serious one minute and then flip a switch to seem like the happiest creature on earth?

How the hell did her mood swing off so quickly?

Oh, what the hell am I talking about?

She's beyond strange.

She's eats humans, after all.

_**I like you, Joanna Wolfe.**_

It was Circe's voice.

Whispering in my head.

Snapping out of my reverie, I blinked quickly, pulling out of my thoughts as my attention focused back onto the conversation around me. Nothing had changed though-it was as if Circe hadn't just spoken to me again, the pirates still stuck in their shaky state of groans and pale faces. Everything were as I had left it when I went on to ponder a while about the strangeness of the demi-goddess; Circe still smiled at me, flashing her brilliant white teeth as if there were carefully polished gems. Like my companions, she hadn't moved at all, her lips as fixed as I had last paid attention to them but a few seconds ago. Her arms were still in their place.

Nobody had moved.

Nobody had said a thing.

Then, how the hell did Circe's voice get into my thoughts and say-

Without another word and still with that enchanting smile, Circe raised her dark hands over her head and clapped them loudly, snapping through the mild noises in complete attention.

The air _whooshed_ slightly.

Light flooded into the world.

My heart froze all over again.

At Circe's single clap, every lamp in the room sprang to life, toasting fires blooming violently above handheld oil lamps on messy tables and wooden torches up on the walls. It was like an trigger to a gas bubble; orange flames, red-hot and singing, burst out of nowhere, flooding the room in a vibrant light so striking that for a moment, all was but white around me. Gasps of surprise emanated from around the room as fire breathed alive at every corner, smiting away the darkness with a blink of an eye-it was unbelievable!

I never seen magic before, let alone even believe in it before this insane adventure. After all, which 18 year old from the 21st century would even fathom the idea?

Magic was impossible.

Period.

But here I was, standing in the hut of a supposed demi-goddess, witnessing the first, real proof of magic.

The first, real evidence of my kept sanity since the beginning of this little trip.

I mean, sure…the ship coming out of the water part and the whole Verdad de el Corazon thing was pretty magical.

But this…this…this was just….

_Impossible._

Beside the still smiling Circe, gaping in the newly brightened room, Jared was the first to voice out his disbelief.

"Holy Mary Mother of-"

"Bloody Blimey-" Pintel soon joined in, cutting of my brother's voice as his fear shone through his raised tone-he had abandoned his bowl on a table, only to stand up on his pudgy legs and glared around him, at the new fires, with outmost suspicion and paranoia. Ragetti was likewise beside him. The fat pirate, however, didn't manage to finish his sentence for I cut him off this time, my voice louder then even his.

"How on earth did you do that?" I pretty much demanded, my eyes jumping from flame to flame. The fires were as normal as fire you would see, toasting and dancing in their holds, licking up the oils. The new stench of oiled-smoke flooded the room as the roaring glow eliminated all of the shadows bringing life back into the hut again. Outside, the world had fallen into complete darkness, though here, in this small wooden room, magic had given us light.

At least, I thought it was magic.

As the forest moaned and creaked below us, my insides churned with apprehension.

I clutched Albert even closer.

Magic?

Seriously?

I mean, sure Jared and I had-

"I'm a demi-goddess, young Joey," Circe's voice pulled me out of my thoughts again, her voice fresh and clear like summer rain as the radiant grin on her face slowly faded into a simple smile, "True, my talents are but nothing compared to the gods…but I am still capable of a few things. Magic, it seems, happens to be an area of particular interest to me." Her voice had softened again as she brought her hands back down to her side, the green silk trembling against her smooth brown thighs. Her dark hair seemed even more beautiful in the firelight.

For a second, no one spoke as anxious gazes were exchanged among us. Ragetti and Pintel looked more scared and worried then anything, as if their experiences if any sense of magic had never been good; in front of me, off the left, Barbossa seemed passive, as if used to this kind of trickery. Lestrade too, seemed to show no emotions. It was Scarlett and Jared who seemed visibly shaken, their eyes round and large as they exchanged looks of utter disbelief and vivid apprehension. In fact, Scarlett's face, in the wavering, bright firelight, seemed to glow an even paler hue. Jared's chest rose rapidly behind her bright head. Behind them all, standing in the corner like a watching stalker, Sparrow made no comment whatsoever, his eyes resting on the back of Circe's elegant head. The twinkles in his eyes were still there, though.

A sense of dread panged at my heart for no reason.

What was this new deviltry?

The room stank of apprehension and tension.

For a moment, no one spoke as Circe kept her gaze on me, cold and hard as ever. Thoughts whirled in my mind.

This was just so-

"Enough of this," Circe finally spoke, crashing through all our thoughts like a hammer against glass, "We have matters to discuss, yes?" Her voice was as elegant and calm as before, her gaze like steel. In front of me, off to the side and beside the solemn Lestrade, Barbossa stirred upright, as if waking from a silent dream.

"Ah, yes," he croaked in his usual voice, yellow eyes swivelling towards the calm, resolute form of the demi-goddess, "Well, yer see…de reason why we are all here enjoyin' yer hospitality in de first place is-

"I know what it is you seek, Hector," Circe cut off the looming pirate in her trilling voice as the gentle smile dropped off her face entirely, each word like a stab into the thick air of tension that surrounded us, "After all, I have seen it. And my answer is simple: No." Below us, beneath the old wood boards that held our feet, the forest chirped and groaned as usual, no matter the darkness that they had just been plunged into. Outside, beyond the magically lighted room of the tree hut, the sky was a complete abyss, not a trace or line visible past the gleam of the fires. Smoke still stung in the air. The ocean's muffled waves rolled nearby.

Circe's face had been completely wiped off with that charming smile.

Instead, her high-boned face gleamed with the feverish of the firelight, her features pulled into a pleasant state. Her eyes were like burning pits of hell upon me.

A shudder crawled through my body helplessly.

Albert was cold against my chest.

How the hell did she change her face so quickly like that?

"But you haven't even heard our proposal!"

"You want me to guide you to the Fountain of Youth, just like the map says," Circe replied Barbossa in that smooth, dancing voice of hers, pulling her hard gaze away from me to look at the aging pirate, "You want me to help you find your immortality." Her firm jaw rose higher as her cold, unnerving gaze settled onto Barbossa-it was as if an awful twist had been loosened in my stomach, the pleasant features turning away from me with a hard, sickening wrench. Something deep in my chest couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Circe's dark curls jingled.

At the door, Sparrow's eyes twinkled like flashing gems.

Raggeti and Pintel exchanged nervous glances off to my right.

Jared was a still statue.

My arms were a frigid cold.

In the dead silence of the warm, fiery room, Barbossa breathed out his answer with a slight slur, his yellow-cat eyes focused entirely on the beautiful demi-goddess.

"Aye, dat is de plan."

"My answer remains."

"Circe…."

"No, Hector!" The dark-skinned witch opened her beautiful eyes even more widely as she raised her voice, her odd, trickling tone dancing high up into the firelight-licked ceiling above us with an unexpected energy, " I cannot help you in this-"

"Circe, we need yer!" It was as if Barbossa had dropped into a slight plead, desperation seeping into his harsh voice as his gnarled fingers rapped against the tabletop in impatience, 'Yer the only way dat we can get to de-"

"Then, I'm afraid that you must go without your Fountain, old friend," Circe cut him off as she inclined her head farther, gazing over at the hat-wearing pirate with a stern, almost impenetrable glare, "I will _not_ help you. End of story" Her odd voice had drawn on an edge of finality and absolute as she spoke-dark curls, like black rivers, bobbed gently over her forehead as all pleasantry was wiped clean off her face, leaving nothing but a cold, hard skeleton. It was as if she had been slowly modelled into chiselled rock, the shadows of the magical fires playing across her sculpted face as muscles jumped at her jaw. Her shoulders had been pulled rigid.

Any hope of sweet smiles and courteous behaviour had completely vanished away.

No one spoke.

My heart hammered against Albert's right eyeball.

At the table, beside the shadow of Lestrade, Barbossa shook his head, the blue plumes atop his sundial hat catching the glow of the fires as he wagged them. His yellow, squinty hid beneath the shadow of his black hat as he bit his lips savagely, his shaggy beard wagging along as well. His jaw was slowly tightening in agitation.

PIntel was whispering again.

"Do yer have any idea how long I've been lookin for a way to li-"

"42 years, 7 months and 15 days-"

"Don't yer go countin years on me, Lily!" Barbossa erupted suddenly, his voice blasting throughout the firelight-washed room with a sharp, unnerving yell, "I've just had enough-

"Lily?"

Without a word, the rest of my party and Circe turned their eyes to me, my last word reverberating throughout the small, airy room in a hollow repeat over Barbossa's own. My spine chilled-9 pair of eyes, all so different and unnerving in their own rights, settled down at me without a single word at all, watching me like hawks circling their prey. Silence, as thick as honey but as bitter and vile as mud, swirled through the air as all did not but stare; Circe' s eyes were back on me and I didn't like it one bit.

Albert pressed against my chest in comfort.

Jared gulped.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of being scrutinised under those thousand, silent stares, Sparrow spoke from his hiding place, his voice as quiet as whisper in the cool jungle night.

"It was the name we knew her as."

An owl hooted below us, on one of the large tree's many branches.

Pintel and Ragetti exchanged somewhat knowing looks.

Lestrade's jaw tightened.

Barbossa's anger-tempered face did little to relax.

Scarlett quirked a slim, red eyebrow.

The wind rushed through the small room, flickering the magical fires in their nests.

Circe's dark eyes hardened in the firelight.

I couldn't breathe.

"Wait…did you guys use to know each ot-"

"Oh, does it matter, half-ling?" Barbossa broke through my question with an impatient cry, his rotting teeth flashing as spit fired out of his vile mouth in near accuracy, "Ye and yer questions…Can't yer see dat we've got more important things to discuss?" His yellow eyes flashed beneath the shadow of his hat-rough knuckles, the colour of tan, knocked hard against the table top in violent frustration, his wrinkles creasing hard into his leathery face. Silver buttons glinted bright yellow in the wavering firelight.

The wind rushed my hair back across my face.

Sparrow was lost in the shadows.

"What the-she already said no, idiot! Don't you know the meaning of 'no'?

"Now ye listen here, lass-

"She is right, Hector, " Circe's smooth, cold voice edged through our small conversation in its odd, fascinating manner, her dark eyes trailing back towards the smouldering Barbossa as each musical word strung through my heart, " There is nothing more to discuss. My answer is final."

"Circe-"

"I will not hear anymore!"

No one spoke.

Not even one word.

All around us, the world smelt of wooden pines, thick earth and fresh smoke.

Monkey hoots and screeches of birds filled the air from below.

Shadows played across the lighted room.

Barbossa looked like he is about to sock someone dead centre in their faces.

Someone that was most likely me.

Jared looked exhausted.

In the dead silence of the room, Circe moved-without a word, she glided sideways, like a ghost clad in demure green in the flickering light of the fires. Pure silk swished softly as the enchanting demi-goddess moved away from the table, edging around Barbossa and Lestrade with a sleek gracefulness I had never seen on anyone before. Dark brown eyes, shaded by her black bangs, stared down to the ground as she moved, her body swivelling and sashaying in my direction. Her sword shivered by her slim, brown legs; without a sound whatsoever, the beautiful, mysterious witch of the island strode past me and towards the black, glassless window, her eyes rising to meet the darkness of the forest and sea below. Dark blonde curls swished gently as I followed the others and turned to settle my gaze upon her, her svelte figure slowly leaning against the wood at her stop.

She was but now a green-clad figure against the darkness of the moonless night, staring out the window in quiet solace.

A shadow of green limed against all the black.

A painting, in all its right.

Off to the side, Ragetti coughed.

I hugged Albert even more.

For a moment or so, we did naught but stare at the back of the beautiful demi-goddess, her dark curls matching the abyss that lay beyond her. Silence radiated throughout the warmed room as she stared deep into the night. None said a word.

_What's going to happen now?_

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Barbossa spoke again, his voice reverberating behind me in a calm, soft tone.

"Fer old time sakes, Lils," He seemed to whisper, his voice hoarse as all eyes but stared at the deity's razor-sharp back, "Don't yer remember…de lot of us, travelling across the seas, searching for adventures-"

"That was a long time ago."

"Not long enough."

_They knew each other_.

Nothing was making any sense at all.

In the quiet callings of the night, we watched in silence, our eyes glued to the straight, tensed back of the dark-skinned demi-goddess, our attentions focused entirely on her. No other thoughts entered our minds; all I could think about-standing there, staring at her back-was that she had pretty hair, and that the possibility of having our skulls used as mantel-pieces like good old Albert here was extremely, _extremely _likely.

What _were_ we doing here again.

In the soft, warm silence of the airy room, Circe spoke again.

"Besides, Hector," Her voice had grown quiet, her back to us still as dark curls, thick and lovely, lapped about her head in the slight breeze, "You know better then anyone. I can never leave the island." Her doe eyes were still away from us-I wondered what she could see, with the world out there so dark like that.

Then again, she _was_ a demi-goddess.

Barbossa's voice raised by a slight notch.

"Your mother still?"

With a low chuckle, Circe nodded her dark, near-invisible head, soft brown arms slowly drawing upwards to wrap herself in a protective hug. Tough fingernails, bitten down to the core, shied against the green slicks of her sleeves, her palms cupping her muscular biceps gently as she hugged herself tightly. Dark curls lopped in the breeze.

"Aye, old friend…. because of her….and others…"

"Your mother doesn't want you to leave her?" I couldn't help but ask, staring at Circe's forlorn back whilst wrapping my arms around Albert's cold structure. The world swirled with the tangy stink of hot ashes and roiling smoke.

In front of me, Circe's wrapped shoulders shook in a silent laugh, the shadows of the flickering fires dancing across her green-clad back.

"No, child," She muttered in a muffled voice, a tiny chuckle spilling over her words as her back remained to us, "My mother isn't here with me. Not on this island….in fact, I haven't seen her in over a year now."

My tongue went dry.

Puzzled, I lifted a single eyebrow, letting the silence of my companions and the rushing noises of the jungle below flood my ears like banking waves.

Lestrade cleared his throat softly behind me.

"Then… Why _can't _you leave? Are you trapped or something?"

"Aye."

"By what?"

"My mother."

For a second, no one said a word as everyone, or at least most of us, contemplated Circe's last words-she had said it in the simplest way, displaying no sense of emotions as she stared away into the blanket of black before her. Her voice betrayed nothing, absolutely nothing at all, her demeanour as calm as if she had just been explaining how the sun was actually a star. Her back was as rigid as before.

Her mother.

_Her mother._

"Your mother has imprisoned you?" Scarlett burst through my random thoughts, her clear, musical voice ringing through the smoke-stained air like the breaking of glass.

I didn't bother to turn around at her.

"I'm afraid so, young one," there was a quiet aspect of Circe's voice as she answered the redhead's incredulous remark, her eyes still staring deep into the black stars above, "My mother….it has been a long time-"

"Wait, wait," I interrupted the demi-goddess once again, shaking my head in confusion as the full impact of her words finally hit me like a cold slap across my face, "You're saying that your _mother_-"

"Gods are quite different from mortals such as yourself, young Joey. They are designed in a much more complicated and intricate manner-what you deem improper might just be a part our customs…_their_ customs, actually-"

"Yeah, yeah… But what kind of mother would imprison her own daughter? I mean, that's just-"

"You never had a mother, child. You wouldn't understand."

Silence flowed through the room.

My heart jolted with shock.

Albert shuddered in my arms.

As the rest of pirates maintained their solemn silence, watching the conversation without a comment, I cast a look over my shoulder, back towards my brother; Jared still stood behind Scarlett, a look of disbelief and incredulity cascading across his shadow-licked features. Hard knuckles, drawn white with strength, pressed down against Scarlett's soft shoulders as his chapped lips parted in surprise, his face pulled white with shock. Blue eyes, near-black in the fiery shadows, widened to an impossible size as his caught my own appalled gaze, words exchanging through the air in the thick silence.

My jaw dropped down to the ground as shock shuddered through my body.

Ragetti and Pintel whispered off to the corner.

Boots shifted against hard wood.

Smoke stung.

_How did she know that?_

It was Jared who finally broke the silence.

"How did you know that-"

"What I know is what I have seen, young Jared. My knowledge comes from my sight. True, this of me is confined-I can only see but a level or two at a time…nevertheless, all that I can see now is good enough for me. Good enough to know, heresy, that both you and your sister are from the world that has yet to exist, from the fut-"

Throughout her mindboggling dialogue and confusing phrases, the wraithlike demi-goddess had turned around again, swishing black curls as she settled her hard, unnerving eyes down on me again-she froze in place, her words stopping in her throat like a tape-recorder jammed on pause. Cherry red lips, like tulips of blood, parted slowly, the rich colour of her skin paling as her dark eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Obvious shock and disbelief washed over her stunning features as her eyes glared down upon me, her arms unwrapping themselves to fall limply along her green silk dress. Large black orbs of eyes swam with a turbulent of sudden emotions, utter surprise standing out the most. Every part of her had gone rigid still.

_What happened?_

Everyone in the room seemed to have held their breaths.

Circe's eyes were like daggers against my skin.

My blood turned to ice.

With wide, stunned eyes and a shock-stricken face, Circe slowly raised her right arm, her tensed muscles trembling as if in exhaustion. A slim, dark finger, shuddering along with the tremors, pointed down at me as her lips parted in slow movements, complete alarm dancing along with the flickering shadows across her sculpted face. Her words were slow and hard.

"W-Where did you get that?" She seemed to whisper, looking at me with stunned though wild eyes. The smell of smoke swam through the thick air as the wind fluttered through the airy room once again, rousing hairs. Circe's breath seemed to quicken against her chest.

With a quick jump of my heart and an awful mouthful gulp of saliva, I followed the train of her pointing, shaking finger- beneath the glare of her far-away knobbed nail, at the side of my right thigh, was my sword, hanging from its hilt at my waist. Geniously-crafted gold glowed beneath the burn of the licking fires as the sword pressed against the side of my leather bodice as usual, its long silver tongue like liquid metal flowing down my calf. At the hilt, the red ruby had caught the fires light at well, like a gleaming red eye in the sea of wondrous gold that surrounded it. The wiggly lines on the blade glinted amber.

Sometimes, it was as if it was never there.

Confusion and slight apprehension threaded through me as I drew my gaze up again, looking at the still-stunned witch. Her red lips quivered in the flickering dark.

"The sword?" I asked gingerly, holding Albert closer to me as I stared at the silent Circe. Behind me, the world was as silent as a grave, the thick air dead above our heads. My breath shuddered within my chest.

In front of me, Circe kept her eerie, stunned gaze.

"Where did get it?" She whispered again, her voice dropping to a bare murmur. Her dark eyes were becoming glazed-her arm shook in mid-air as she pointed at my sword, all of her relentless, unwavering attention focused upon it. My stomach clenched with trepidation as a breeze bustled past; something was wrong about Circe, about the way she was just standing there, pointing and staring at my sword with a growing blankness washing across her features.

Something terribly wrong.

I could practically hear the gears trudging away inside her brain.

The air was thick with tension and anxiety.

My heartbeat quickened.

I wanted to scream.

Clearing my throat and gulping back my unease, I answered her repeated question, trying as best as I could to rid her still, stunned face out of my mind.

"I stole it."

Circe said nothing.

For a long moment, no one said a word as the ethereal demi-goddess kept her wide-eyed gaze on me, her face devoid of any other emotions less complete disbelief. Her red, red lips were still parted against her liquid brown face, the locks of her luscious dark hair flapping against her shoulders and forehead as the breeze kicked in again, filling the room with a smoky scent that never seem to go away. Monkey hoots filled the night as Sparrow cleared his throat in the shadows, the chill of everything around me creeping up my spine…

_What's going on?_

_Why is she staring at my sword like that?_

_Does she like it or something?_

_What the hell is up with her mood swi-_

A flash of green blur filled my entire vision as the lithe, sleek form of Circe charged forward, pouncing on me like a lion catching its prey between its bloodied, sharp claws. Panic and confusion flooded all of my senses-without a single sound or word, Circe jumped me, her claw-like hands grabbing my shoulders with astounding force. Her weight crashed against my own like a breaker against the crumbling sands, pulling away my legs beneath me and wrenching a surprised cry out of my weathered lips.

It was as if I was being mugged or something; for a moment, all went black as Circe's sudden attack sent me sprawling down to the ground, my head knocking back against the wood boards with a loud, ear-piercing _bang_. Pain scorched through my very being upon impact-nothing made sense as my head screamed with fire, my vision clouding with starburst of bright, multi-colours. Another cry burst from my lips as my teeth gritted together in pain, my temples exploding with a sudden viper. Voices and screams flooded my ears, as the throbbing pain fogged over my mind, numbing my senses in a pain-ridden blanket. For a second, nothing at all made sense, images and sounds blurring together under the foggy lights of the sting, blinding me of all meaning. My tongue tasted like bitter spit-tears flooded my eyes as I gazed up into the flickering ceiling of the wooden room, grey shadows and bright lights dancing across my vision like nymphs on a rainy day.

It took me moment, in all that confusion and pain, to realise that someone was on top of me, clawing at my side.

"GET OFF HER!" I heard Jared howled above me as I slowly blinked my eyes, the pain of my fall reverberating throughout my entire body. Everything around me was grey; dark shadows, flitting and fast, moved across my vision as yells clouded my ears, hands pulling at my waist with astounding, unimaginable strength. Each blink was like prying my sewn eyelids open with hard, metal pliers.

A soft groan crocked out of my sore throat.

Pain screamed in my head.

Tears fell down my cheeks.

A woman's screamed above me.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting up, leaning against the firm form of my twin brother, my head against his shoulder. Strong, large arms wrapped themselves around me-my head was still throbbing away, my vision slowly taking colour as the bitter taste fuelled away in my mouth. My heart thudded in my head like a booming drum, hitting the beat with a continuous rhythm that never seem to end:

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum…_

I was still on the floor, but I was no longer alone-in the fog of pain that slowly cleared over my mind, my tearing, weary eyes spied the petite form of Scarlett kneeling beside me, a gentle, cool hand cupping my tear-stained cheek. Jared was, of course, behind me, holding me as I nimbly laid there, my legs sprawled out around me in a tight circle. His heartbeat boomed beneath my aching, miserable head. My breath shuddered in my chest; colour was coming back now, though everything was still mostly grey, the world around me blanketed in a thick fog that was slowly dissipating away. Spasms splintered across my aching scalp as I blinked with a loud moan, my brow furrowing with the exuberant pain. Albert was, somehow, still cradled in my arms.

_What the hell just happened?_

Looking forward, past Scarlett and Jared, I saw my answer.

Amidst all the hazy grey and the disoriented lines, I saw the shadows of the pirates, standing before me in a tight semi-circle, rapiers and guns drawn before them. Their boots were planted firmly into the ground as they stared ahead, their flickering backs facing me-pressed against the far wall, among the pillars of books and plants, squatted the shadowy, blurred form of Circe, her dark skin making it seem as if she was but one with the wooden wall. The grey fog of mind-blinding pain hazed her out, like a painting after it had been drenched with a downpour of rain. Nothing made sense-she just sat there, staring down into her green-clad lap, her dark blanket of luscious curls blacking out her entire face. Blurred, smudgy movements rippled through her squatting body.

_What the hell was going on?_

As the pain continued its onslaught against me, forcing my eyes to shut in a train-wreck of ultimate agony and lean even farther back into my brother's comforting arms, a voice whispered into my senses, thick and muffled in my ear.

" I didn't mean it….No, no….I didn't mean it….I didn't mean to hurt her…I just wanted to _know_….I just wanted to _see_…I didn't want to hurt her…I would never hurt her…I would never…I would never…Oh, oh….I would never have….I liked her…why did I hurt her….No, no…I didn't mean it….I didn't want to….I didn't want to hurt her…I didn't want to….I don't want to…but Balder….Balder has to know….he has to know…the sword…I must know…she is the one…she must be…she must free me…I didn't want to….but she must free me….the sword…she must free me…Balder…I didn't want to…I would never…I couldn't…I did…I hurt her…"

Through the fog of my pain, I heard Circe cry.

_Heard her sob_.

Don't ask me what happened next, for everything after that incident is all but a blur, a foggy dream that pain has erased from my memories-all I know is that the next image that nestled itself into my mind was that of being back on the _Flying Dutchman_, and having Will hold me in his arms.

**TA-DA!**

**End of Chapter!  
**

**Honestly, I'm quite fond of the last part of this chapter, even though the whole thing was a little draggy. Sorry about that.**

**I would like to say that recently, I went back to look at my previous chapters and realized just how CRAPPY they were! I mean, seriously! What was I thinking?**

**Anyway, spoiler time: yes, folks. Something coming up for Joey, something that is going to answer a few questions. Something big. Something interesting.**

**Something called destiny.**

**Until next time, please review this work and tell me any suggestions that you have for the story! I really do love hearing from you guys and always try to create this interactive thing with this story. Anyway, farewell for now and thanks for everything!  
**

**XOXO**


	28. Conversations

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate it! And to those who commented about my apparent lack of reviews…. just wanted to let you know that I am perfectly contented with the 30+ reviews I have. In fact, I'm absolutely thrilled! Thanks anyway! Your words really mean a lot to me.**

**Anyway, this chapter is not done well. I'm sorry but I hope that it is interesting at the least.**

**Keep your shoes on for this one, guys, and enjoy to your heart's content!**

**Chapter 27: Conversations**

"You're a fool," Jared sighed as he looked down on me, his hard hands pressed against the edge of my aching head. Tough fingernails, rough and coarse in their beds, scraped against the sweaty slick of my forehead as it applied pressure against my brain; once again, the pain of the world had devoured my taste buds into dust, catching a thick bitterness in the back of my throat. My eyes still stung with the soreness of before, though now, the tears of grey were gone, only to replaced by a vivid clearness that casted all of the darkened world in a sharp array of contrast. My curls were damp against the soft covers of Jared's bed.

My head was like a throbbing, pus-infected sore.

I wanted to fall asleep and die right there.

Above me, in the middle of all shadows, Jared's azure eyes gazed down at me with a weary glint.

I moaned out my reply with exhaustion.

"What the hell did I do?"

"Be you," was Jared's only answer as he kept the pressure on my sore head, splaying his rough fingers deep into my dank curls and across my sweating forehead, "Only _you_ would have gotten into this sort of trouble." His brilliant blue eyes shone out of the wavering darkness like gleaming sapphires-in the gentle rocking of the ship, shadows danced all around us, the waning moonlight creeping across the room in silver wave-lengths. Figures darted across the blackened ceiling- above me, staring down at me with all attention, my brother looked exhausted, the looming shadows of the bobbing world hooding his blue eyes and gaunting his tanned, brown skin. Weary lines, like wrinkles of age, creased his flawless skin in many folds, making him look, in this bare light, much older then he actually was. At my head, his fingers were weak, his hands sliding over the sweat without much effort at all. His dark blonde hair was black in the never-ending shadows.

Though his eyes were bright still, Jared radiated tiredness and pure exhaustion, his every action slower and his eyes, drooping lower.

It was very late, after all.

With a gulp of bitter and saliva and a heavy, painful sigh, I answered my brother, breathing heavily through my nostrils.

"How…how I was suppose to know that she would pounce on me?" my voice was weak as I gazed back into those blue eyes, my head heavy with ache against the soft sheets, "I didn't see it coming. No one did."

"You're still a fool."

Silence divided us for a while.

Leaning back against the white pillows, I pulled the blankets up towards me, letting the pain and exhaustion of the day sink me further into those soft, silk sheets; I was tired. So unbelievably tired. It was as if I had just hiked the entire height of Mount Everest or something; my bones refused to bulge as I closed my eyes away from the darkness, my aching muscles falling deep into the comforting arms of the soft bed. The blanket was like a warm canopy of slumber-the entire day had exhausted me. The heat, the hike, the drama and then, at last, the panging headache which a convincingly mad demigoddess had given me, all seemed to bore down upon my broken body like a suffocating wrap, pulling me thick into the sea of weariness and ache. My thoughts were tired too-truthfully, sincerely, I just wanted to die there, to fall asleep and never return to this world at all. My lungs shuddered a breath of pure weariness deep within me.

Above me, behind the darkness of my painful, lidded eyes, voices reverberated against harsh wood, spiteful and loud in the quiet of the night.

A yawn retched my lips apart.

After a moment or so, I peeked open an eye, staring at my still brother with outright discontent.

"What time is it?" I croaked, my voice etched with drawing sleep; I wanted to sleep, to fall deep down into that dark shadows. I could not though-the pain of my head, the ache of my brain kept me awake, flooding my body with a fitful restlessness. Even my eyes were still sore from it all.

Curse you, Circe.

Above me, Jared echoed my yawn with one of his own.

"Past midnight, I think," he concluded, not looking anywhere but at me as his fingers pressed deeper against the side of my head, "Everyone else seems to be asleep."

"You can't…can't take that as a judgement, Jared. This is a _undead_ ship…. remember?"

"True…but even zombies need naps, no?"

I offered a weary smile in response.

Nothing was left to be said.

For the next few minutes, Jared continued his campaign my head in silence, his blue eyes focused entirely upon my shadowy face. I ignored his gaze though-sleep tried to draw me in a few times, but the pain always drove it away, like a wrench imbedded in between my subconsiousness. My stomach still roiled beneath my leather bodice as frustration welled within my aching body-I hadn't changed yet, simply because I had been too exhausted and pained to do naught but lie and rest. Dark colours of blue and silver zapped against my faded vision:

_Sleep…_

_Sleep!_

I really, _really_ wanted to die.

As the long minutes passed in silence, my senses kept in tune to the world; above our heads, beyond the blackened ceiling, voices still kept at their argument, wild and notorious, clashing against one another with all their might. There were muffled and blurred, and I could barely make sense of them but yet, in the quiet of the night and the strange clearness that the ache brought, I could certainly identify them: There was Barbossa's voice, like splintering wood in his shouts: That was Sparrow, hooting and yelling something in his odd manner: Little Jack was there too, howling in his apian tongue: Bootstrap was shouting something as well, something crude in his wet, raspy voice: Amidst all the noises, I could barely hear Will…

"Drink it," Jared interrupted my aching thoughts, pulling my eyes off the ceiling and back towards his looming, dark face, "There is a little left." One of his hands had abandoned my head; it now held a dirty mug full of diluted red liquid, pouring to the brim. In the gentle rocking of the ship, the liquid sloshed about in the dark hole, creating tiny, red waves along the mugs interior diameter. Streams of faint red trailed down the side of my brother's hands.

I recognised the drink straight away.

"No thanks," I cringed obviously, shaking my heavy head with as much effort as I could gather, "I've had enough." The voices still echoed above our heads. Below us, beneath the floors and floors of wood, the ocean rocked us like a lullaby, swaying the giant ship up and down on its gentle waves. A cool breeze poured in through the partially opened window.

"Joey, Gibbs said-"

"I know what Gibbs said…and I don't want anymore. I'm sick of it."

"Joey, you have a concussion-"

"That's not a proven the-"

"Damn it, Joey!" My brother howled loudly, drawing his other away from my head with a quick snap, his eyes glaring down at me. Fire had returned into those sea-deep pools; the silver light of the pale moon shivered across his tempered face, the shadows….

Oh, whom am I kidding?

My mind was too fogged up to care about how he looked.

Let alone, the world.

Without a reply, I sank back down into the soft pillows as Jared ranted on, his harsh voice biting through the fog of ache with vicious, relentless stabs. Blue eyes, alive with a wild flame, glare down at me with outmost anger and frustration-spit was flying out of his mouth as his anger grew within him, the silver and black of the night spilling across his newly-tempered features. His voice was like loud raps against wood; I didn't bother with a single word as I blinked my eyes lazily, pulling the covers tightly around me. Sleep tried to reel me all over again.

Voices clouded my thoughts.

My tongue was bitter as hell.

My head swarm.

"Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you are in, Joey? You hit your head! Hell, for all we know, you could have massive internal bleeding in your brain-…"

"I told yer before, hector! Circe 's unpredictable 'n there's nothin' I could have done-…"

"Nothin'? _Nothin'_? You're the reason de she-beast's half crazy in de first pla-…"

"And because of you, Joey got hurt, Jack! Do you have any idea…JOEY'S LYING DOWN THERE BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU ASS-…"

"…and there is no fucking proper medical care _anywhere_ in this god-damn century! None at all! I mean, Jesus, Joey, do you have any idea how serious situation could-…"

"Yer don't dink I tried, you maggot? I reasoned with her, I tried to negotiate, bring back old memories-…"

"Oh, wow, Barbossa! Brilliant idea, reminding her how the lot of you betrayed her, enslaved her-…"

"I did it fer her own good-…"

"You could be dying, Joey, and we might not even know until-…"

"So, in de end, de whole trip was an utter waste! Nothing came out but-…"

" 'Cept de young luv hit her poor little head…It's not de end-…"

"You are all I have left, Joe-…"

"Joey could have died, you-…"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed, letting the sharp shrill tear out of my voice with a sickening, painful lurch. My eyes fell shut against my damp cheekbones-without a thought, I clamped my hands over my ears, blocking out all the sounds that swirled around me like an impending, dooming net. Darkness blinded my entire world.

Silence slowly returned to me, the voices fading away above my clamped ears.

Fingers left my temples.

The pain thumped even more loudly.

The wind kissed me.

_Slam!_

With a jolt, I pried my eyes open, pulling back my hands from my ears-Jared was gone. In his place was the never-ending darkness, the colours of the sea and night mixing together to create a pale mosaic all over the walls. The wind howled gently against the panel wood. Boots stomped away behind the door at the foot of my bed, marching away into the distance behind the harsh wood; Jared was gone.

He had left.

Great going, Joey.

With a loud groan, I pulled myself upright, trying my very best to ignore the pangs that boomed beneath my skull; it was as if a freaking marching parade was going on inside me. My eyes began to water again as my entire world shifted upright, my stomach lurching as my nose flared. Agitation swirled through me; Jared was probably right about the concussion though. Above me, beyond the hard, dark wooden ceiling, the voices had subsided again, reduced into a soft, muffled chatter that buzzed overhead like an annoying, leeching bee. A monkey's howl punctuated the inaudible conversation-perhaps they had heard my shout. Perhaps that fools of pirates….

_It was painful to think._

With a loud heave of breath, I grabbed my legs and swung them around, pulling them out of the blankets and planting them firmly on the floor. It wasn't my body that hurt-no, it was my head, panging, booming, thudding, screaming, shrieking…it took so much of me not to hurl. Bare, cold feet, pale and naked in the darkness touched the black wood gently; the whites of my soft nightgown trickled out of the sheets and down those loose legs, spilling all the way to my ankles. Vivid colours, bright and sharp with the pain stared back up at me in differing contrast; perhaps I should have painted my nails before we came here, with the new blue polish that I had just bought….

_It was painful to think._

Without a word, I gazed up from my feet, looking across the darkened room; at the other side of the room, hidden in the dark shadows and in the folds of my blue blanket was Scarlett, her vibrant red hair splayed across my pillow like a gorgeous fan. Above her, the brilliant blue blanket moved up and down slowly, like the gentle lapping of waves on a quiet sea. A spot of moonlight shined down onto her bare feet; her face was completely hidden in the darkness but it was only obvious that she was asleep, her soft breathing matching the calm rolling of waves that rocked beneath us. After all, she had been the first to fall asleep; after helping brew Gibbs' little remedy and helping Jared tend to me, the petite red head had fallen asleep on my free bed, her gentle figure curling up into the blankets like some kind of contented dog. I didn't blame her though; it was an exhausting day.

Even if I couldn't sleep.

_It was painful to think._

Pulling my eyes off Scarlett's sleeping form, I reached forward in the dark; sitting on the small round table, in the centre of the room, was Albert, his red bandana glowing brilliantly in the pale light. Dark, ominous eye sockets gleamed out of the darkness as he stared back at me, his sickly bone like glowing white gold in the waning moonlight; without a word, I reached forward and pulled him off the table, holding the decapitated skull by the knot in the red bandana.

My head screamed at the loss pressure of Jared's fingers on my head.

My eyes watered again.

Sorry, Albert.

I shouldn't be walking.

That much I knew.

Yet, despite it all-the pain, the nausea and the sleepiness- I was there, standing on the lonesome deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, swaying to the gentle swooping of the deep black sea. It was one of those days-in the daylight, the world had been a scorching fire, pressing down on us mortals in an unforgiving, relentless passion. Everything seemed to burn to crisp under the fiery eyes' gaze; but now, in the dead of the black night, everything was just right, the gentle wind breathing down upon the world and cooling it off with a refreshing rinse. The weather was perfect; tiny flecks of seawater sparkled the night air like gleaming diamonds as the breeze played with them, the waning moonlight of the setting crescent gleaming across the world in a haunting pale beauty. Up above, in the black midnight sky, diamonds of stars winked down at the earth, brilliant constellations of gleaming silver swooping across the dark, never-ending abyss. The air tasted like freshly-brewed salt; up above, a patch of pure black loomed over the stars, staining the world with soot and smoke as it grew and bulged away. Silver-lined waves crashed against rock in the near distance.

My bandana-ed head still swarmed like crazy in the lapping silence of the night.

A silence that embraced the world in a beautiful blanket.

A world that was devoid of any human life.

In retrospect, that is.

"You should be resting, Joey," Will's voice called from the prow of the dark, ghost ship, soft and smooth in the creasing darkness. Weariness edged at the corners of his calm, muffled tenor; he was standing on the bow of the ship, looking out into the impending darkness as his dark curls caught the silver of the moon in their giant ringlets. His hard lined, tensed back stared at me as he leaned out against the wooden barrier, loose, darkened hands dangling over the lapping sea like limp, lifeless puppets. The breeze was tugging at his silver-lined curls; he was as usual, dressed in a loose pale shirt that shied off his hard body in an airy attire. Black metal boots blended into the dark wood, as if he was rooted into place like a strong, unbreakable oak of fine muscles. Off to the side, in the soft sweeping of the waves and the tantalizing smell of the ash cloud, the other two ships rocked silently, their dark decks completely devoid of any life.

Well, if you excluded me, the same could be said for this one too.

After all, wasn't Will suppose to dead?

And you think God would be merciful when it came to your love life.

_Or lack of, apparently._

Leaning back against the wooden stairs, I gave out a weary sigh.

"So should you. It's been a long day."

"True…but I wasn't the one who was attacked by a mad demi-goddess."

"Attack…" I let my voice trail as I focused my weary eyes onto the undead Captain's white-clad back, trying my very best to ignore the drum that boomed beneath my skull and behind my eyeballs "You people make it sound like she mauled me or something." Behind me, the wooden banister that led up to the helm was ice-cold; the floor was icy too, as if someone had sprayed a layer of frost over everything as the roiling sun had set so many hours ago. The pale-white of my nightgown kissed against my ankles as the breeze danced with them, shying them against my chilled, bare skin as it hugged onto my curves with piteous jealousy. Cold fire, etched with the scornful pain, crept up my spine; at the bow, sketched against the liquid black of the looming island, Will's rigid shoulders tensed slightly.

Albert's red bandana, the one I had wrapped around my head to apply pressure, truly did little to take off the pain.

"She pounced on you, Joey. That mad witch pushed you down and-"

"Gave me a headache," I finished for him, rolling my eyes helplessly at his silent, foreboding back, "She jumped on me and gave me a headache…honestly, dude…it's no big deal."

"She's crazy, Joey. Off her mind."

"Aren't we all?"

"You don't get it…" his voice trailed into the wind as he spoke again, his rigid back slightly turning towards me, his dark, loose curls sliding across his white-clad shoulders like a drifting tide, "You don't… I told you not to go, Joey. I told you not to go with them-"

"I never do as I'm told-"

"Which is so _infuriating_-"

"It was my choice, Will-"

"Your choice? _Your choice?_ When are you going to realise that on this ship, on _my _ship-"

"You didn't tell me she was crazy-"

" I didn't have to say anything! You should have just listened-"

"What the fuck is this really about, Will?" I practically screamed, ignoring the booming within my skull as my noise tore out my throat with a hard, painful wrench. The cold, black abyss above swallowed up my voice in its wide embrace; before me, limed against the shifting mosaic of black and silver, Will's face was half-turned in my direction, his sharp, perfect profile rimmed with the shivering silver of the setting moon. Dark curls, held around by a black bandana, shifted into the dark shadows behind his back as one, singular brown eyes gazed over at me, his high cheekbones sharp with a starling, pale white. His loose white shirt seemed to glow along with the medallion at his bare chest, the gold amulet but a disk of bright white-gold from my viewpoint. Blackness consumed half of him, while the silver of the dwindling moon lit up against his tanned, harsh skin. Pops of muscles jumped at the side of his jaw.

He was, as usual, beautiful as ever.

The bandana on my head was beginning to itch.

"Where did you get that bandana from? Sparrow?"

"Will, don't change the subject!"

"What subject? There is none-"

"You're upset with something," I snapped him off, folding my white-clad arms across my heaving chest, "And you're taking it out on me with this stupid tongue-lashing about how I never listen to you!"

The wind shuffled a little harder.

"In my defence, you really, _really, _never do listen-"

"WILL!"

"Alright!" Will swivelled fully towards me, his beautiful dark brown eyes leaping with a sudden, vicious fire as his curls swung at his fierce movement, "Alright!" The cold moonlight, so frail in the suffocating dark, glowed against his newly-turned back; muscles popped away at his jaw as he glared at me from across the darkness, his hands knotted at his side in tight clenches. Streams of vein popped along the biceps of his lower arms with might as those dark, dark eyes met mine over the shadows-silver-touched curls coyed gently against his hard face as the sudden anger wounded him tightly. His shoulders were high and rigid against his shaking curls.

Below us, the sea whispered its soft, sweet song.

My eyes were beginning to water again.

_Mood swing, much._

With an exaggerated sigh, I pulled my eyes off his anger-tempered ones to gaze down at my bare feet.

"Alright what?"

"You're right. I'm furious."

"I didn't say-"

"I'm mad!" His voice rose high into the air, the shadows of the dead night creeping up on him and hiding his tensed figure beneath is folds, "I'm bloody raging…I'm at the ends of my wits-"

"Will-"

I didn't get to say anymore for at that moment, a loud _crack_ vibrated through the whispery air, like the crashing of ships-with an audible gulp and a surprised jump, I looked up from my cold feet, towards the monument of a man who stood limed against the moon-tinged darkness beyond. Silver glowed behind him like a majestic glow; in the single moment it had taken me to utter his name, Will had turned around again and punched the low wall of the bow, striking it at the corner when the diverging wooden panes met at the very tip. His right hand was a flash in the darkness-I caught my breath as the wood groaned under his sudden fist, snapping through the cool air like the cracking of bone. Before us, in the looming darkness ahead, the waning moonlight of the setting moon seemed to lick over the black slab of the island, gently highlighting the curves of the dark canopy and the slick surface of the granite tower of the volcano. Something fiery flickered in the black, black ash cloud above.

My hand patted the red bandana tied around the top of my head as I gulped back inaudibly, my heart panging along with my head.

The sea rocked all three ships calmly, bobbing us on its gentle waves.

My eyes kept on Will's back.

I wanted to puke.

"Will…."

"You don't understand, Joey," his voice dropped low as he kept his back to me, his white-clad shoulders high and tight against the glowing silver as his fist withdrew slowly back towards him, "You don't get it all. None of it-"

"Let me guess," I couldn't help but sigh, tightening my hands across myself and rubbing my roughened hands along the creams of my arm, "You hate Sparrow. And Barbossa, really." My eyes kept onto his tight, rigid back, my hair swopping across my cold shoulders; my head was screaming like hell and there was absolutely nothing to with it. Agitation slowly bubbled within me; for some reason, I was beginning to get irritated, what with the darkness swelling around me like a blinding, impenetrable net and Will, overall. The cord tightened within my chest; I didn't want to here really, alone with Will on the darkness on the late night-

"I don't-"

"Funny, I thought they won't that hard to hate…Sparrow, anyway-"

"Circe was the only option, Joey," Will had raised his head, staring out into the silver-licked sea and the darkened island and volcano, his hard voice betraying no emotion as shoulders drew to a complete straight, "She was the only way."

"To the Fountain of Youth?"

"To Elizabeth and my son."

My heart stopped dead.

As the wind whispered against us, calling us to its bidding, we just stood there, two separate entities caught in two different worlds, divided by the giant void of darkness between us. My blood chilled at the name; Will just stood there, his back to me, staring out into the shimmering darkness without a single movement or sound. His dark curls glistened with silver again, shaking gently in the breeze upon his pale-clad, firm shoulders. The darkness seemed to consume him, all over again.

Something dark and horrid tore at my still, dead heart, gnawing with gnashing, blood-tipped fangs.

I really, _really_ wanted to puke.

"I understand."

My voice was barely a whisper.

Somehow, though, Will heard me just fine.

In a voice almost as low as mine, muffled away by the licking waves and by the leeching winds, Will answered.

"Of course you understand…you're Joey, after all."

It was as that moment that I realised what I had to do.

**TA-DA!**

**END OF CHAPTER!**

**Ok, honestly, this chapter was **_**horrible**_**. I am really not proud with it and I should have paid more attention to it, only that I was too excited to write the next one. Really sorry, though!  
**

**Anyway, I need some sort of advice from you guys; please let me know if the story plot overwhelms you guys now. This is because I am going to add a new element to the story, the thing with Joey's destiny. I was thinking about starting it in the next chapter. So please, PLEASE, tell me if you want the new element to be introduced in the next update or if it is too soon.**

**In the end, thanks for all the reviews and look out for the next chapter! THANKS!**

**XOXO**


	29. What are you willing to die for?

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, just my OCs. I really, **_**really **_**wish Sparrow and Will were mine though-Sparrow being a genius creation of mine and Will…well…mine.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 28: What are you willing to die for?**

Back home, in the early 21st century, I, Joanna Wolfe, was known for dumb ideas. Everyone in our town knew about my addiction to come up with the most hare-brained schemes; the kids at our school would never, _ever_ involve me in any party planning, simply because my ideas would consist of flaming tequilas and powerful vacuum cleaners. Neither would my dad or brothers _ever _consult me when it came to planning out events such as dates or important meeting, mainly because my plan for any would involve red cowboy boots and cartoon-based charts.

In other words, every one of my plans is just off the wall.

This one, I am proud to say, is my worst idea to date.

Beneath my numb fingers, the hard knot refused to budge, its coarse ridges brushing against my skin as I pulled at it. My short nails dug into its damp surface-beneath me, the small boat rocked uneasily in mid-air, the ropes that held it in place shaking it terribly against the ship's side. Metal rings clinked like soft bells in the dead night as the ropes shifted and slithered about under my attempts, my cold fingers digging deep into the nest of knots. Icy breath, cool and perfect in the still night, coyed against my bandana-ed hair as I hurried about-the oar shifted at my feet, sliding across the wooden floor with a loud, irritating _scrape._ The sea sloshed away meters beneath me; there was no other sound, no other sound at all as I moved quickly, my lung taking in quick, short breaths as I silently pulled and pulled. By my feet, the small, fire-spurned lamp bobbed along with the shaky floor of the small boat, casting frail, shivering gleams of yellow across the panelled wood. The world still swirled with the aroma of pure, untainted ashes.

Yup.

This was _definitely_ my worst idea yet.

It was a sick feeling really, hanging so high above the gentle waves, stuck in the middle of all that impending black. After all, it really was quite dark-the only light that illuminated my vision was the swaying lamp at my feet and the frail silver of the moon that danced across the seas like shifting shadows. Other then that, the world was almost ink black, the dark void surrounding my lone, struggling figure so high up in the air like that. To my right, the large shadow of the _Flying Dutchman _loomed overhead, its dark spires and pale sails blending into the night sky with an eerie, silver-cast glow. The side of my small boat grunted noisily against the ghost ship's side as the wind toyed with it. Beneath my red bandana, my head still throbbed like hell, as if someone was drilling a large, ridged needle through the temple of my skull.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

I really should get my brain checked.

As I made to pull the final tug, the knot almost released from its hell-tight fit, a bright hiss erupted from above me, splitting through the cool, dank air like the slithering of a snake.

"What are you doing?"

I almost screamed out loud; jumping back from the rope in fright and outright shock, I snapped my throbbing head up, my heart panging with alarm:

A woman loomed overhead; pressed against the wooden barrier of the deck and with pale hands gripping along the edges, the startling figure glared down at me, her head directly above my own, about a meter away. In the shadows of the late night, her hair was pure black, streaming downward in a pair of dark waterfalls shrouding her features. Her porcelain face, like that of a China doll tucked among all that falling, black hair, was darkened, shadows of bright silver moonlight and pure gloom flickering across her face slowly. The pale of her pink dress flashed against the back of her head as she gazed down at me with wide eyes, glowing bright and beautiful in the silver touch of the waning crescent. Bright green eyes, the size of large coins, screamed out of all the dark.

"_Scarlett?"_ I hissed back, eyes widening furiously, heart jamming in my chest. It couldn't be her-yet it was Scarlett, with the same button nose and those brilliant green eyes that had captured my brother's heart.

Even though, for some reason, the darkness had melded her beautiful red hair into ribbons of pure black.

It couldn't be anyone else though.

As if to reaffirm my point, the lone figure of Scarlett rolled her bright eyes, her pale head directly above me in a 90 degrees angle.

"Who else could it be?" she hissed again, her voice as low as the whistling wind, her red lips snarling slightly against her shadowy skin, "Do you know anyway other women on board with us?"

"Well, there's the matter of ghosts-"

"What _are_ you doing out here?"

It was as if she had no body; only her head gleamed over the side of the deck, her hair falling all about her face in an eerie, vampire-like manner. Only silver-tinged blackness surrounded and backed her-it was just her face, glaring down at me with an irritated frown, delicate hands clenching hard to the wood. The cool breeze pulled again, dancing among the ruffled, dark curls. My head swirled with the throbbing, unnerving pain.

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"What are you planning now, Joanna-"

"Keep it down, sputnik!" I hissed again, drawing my hand up to flap at her angrily, squinting my painful eyes against the darkness of the night, "They will hear you!"

"Why the hell don't you want them to hear you?" Scarlett shushed in return, her green eyes widening with frustration as she clenched harder against the wood, her darkened hair flapping as she pulled herself even more forward, "And whom do you mean by _they_? Jared? Captain Turner? What are-"

"Redhead, _shut up_-"

"Joanna Wolfe, if you don't tell me what you are up to, I'm going back below deck and getting your brother, you-"

"I'm going to get Circe, alright?" I wanted to scream so badly yet somehow, I managed to keep in check, hissing from behind masterfully clenched teeth. My fists were knotting in agitation as paranoia and frustration began to bubble within me, my head like a swollen, pus-infected pimple; if we kept this up, the others would wake.

And I didn't want the others to wake.

Not if I wanted any success tonight.

Up above, suspending in mid-air among all the black, Scarlett grew absolutely still, her darkened hair flapping in the cool breeze and her emerald eyes wide and stunned. Most of her features were imperceptible as a shock quiet consumed her completely into a standstill; with a loud, irritated sigh, I pulled my eyes from her, releasing the straining neck muscles as I brought my weary view back down to the task at hand. Below me, the narrow floor of the small boat shivered ever more as the breeze kicked up a notch, the wavering lamp bobbing side to side on its tethers. Flashes of pale yellow zigzagged across my boots as I moved on with my work; the knot was almost loose, so very loose…

"Are you _insane_?"

"Perhaps, but it has never stopped me before."

"Joanna, _she attacked you_!" Scarlett's melodic, English-accented voice was rising again as the trance she had briefly entered a few seconds ago dissolved away like ice on a sunny day, her eyes widening as she pulled herself even more forward "That…that witch pounced on you like animal, like a rabid dog-"

"I was thinking more of a craved feline-"

"She's mad, Joanna! Absolutely mad…she's crazy as an old she-devil spurn on the night-"

"That's why I'm bringing my sword," I tried to explain, waving a hand to soften her rising voice while keeping my own irritated hiss, my eyes swelling with the pain of my throbbing head; unconsciously, a hand released the nest of loosened knots to clench firmly on the hilt of my sword at my belt, gazing upward at Scarlett yet again. The breeze threatened to ruffle the knot of my bandana loose at the back of my head.

My ears kept clear for any sign of life on deck, life that could betray my plan.

Despite my protest, Scarlett's voice rose even more.

"You don't even know how to use that thing, Joey! The only time you've used that sword-"

"Quit it, woman, or I'll-"

"You can't possibly think that going up against that craved witch with a toothpick of a sword-"

"HEY!"

"You're going to die out there, she's going to kill you-"

"Nice to know that you have so much faith in me, Scar-"

"You're brother is going to be so furi-"

"What the hell would you have me do then, Scarlett?" I swallowed my voice just before the scream spilled out, ending it in a rough, painful hiss that streamed through my fiercely clenched teeth, "What would you have me do?"

For some reason, the pain in my head was intensifying.

While my loose hand travelled back to the knots of ropes, Scarlett drew her breath up above, her face darkened by the leaping shadows. All around us, the cool wind was picking up speed, making the silver-lined black waves crash against one another with a louder noise. The ships too began to bob about even more, the tail of my small, kidnapped boat scraping against the wood of the ghost ship irritably. My insides lurched as the boat took one massive swing in the dark.

Finally, in the calling wind and whispering moonlight, Scarlett spoke again, her voice almost lost in the cool breeze.

"Why-"

"Because I have to help him," I cut her off fiercely, pushing back the choke in my throat as I glared up at her with all the confidence and determination I could muster, "Circe is the only way he will be happy again, Scarlett…I have to help him." My voice betrayed none of my emotions as I stared up at her calmly; inside, things were rolling as much as the lamp was all over the floor of my boat, my head screaming with momentum with my churning gut. My eyes were beginning to water again, my bandana itching once more upon the top of my sweaty head. My hand still set on the hilt of the sword.

"Will?"

"Who else?"

"Joey," Scarlett seemed to breath out patiently, taking in a deep, stirring breath, "I understand your need...I do… but you can't just go strutting about a wild, dangerous jungle in the dead of night, in search of mad, magic-spewing demi-goddess with not but a single sword! You can't! Not alone, at least!"

"Come along, then."

For once, Scarlett didn't know what to say.

**8888888888888**

With a loud huff, I pulled myself onto the wooden veranda, arms heaving painfully as I lugged my entire weight off the wooden ladder. My arm muscles winced in grunting protest; with gritting teeth and sharp, hissing breaths, I crawled up onto the wood, my fingers pulling me forward, away from the ledge. Wooden panes, coarse and uneven, scraped against my leather bodice as I dragged myself forward-at my side, the golden-hilted sword clanged noisily against the floor, scratching a dark line along the blackened wood with its deadly edge. Metal boots lunged heavily over the side.

_Finally._

For a minute or so, I just laid there, letting the weariness of my aching body and throbbing of my head fade down onto the floor. The cool wood of the floor kissed against my sweating cheeks as I splattered myself against it, letting it chill my bare arms and shoulders as all that was left of me sunk through my skin. Utter exhaustion pressed my entire weight down onto the floor as I just laid still, my eyes shutting close for a half second as I gathered my breath. All was quiet and utter dark around me-that is, until Scarlett's voice resounded through the air.

"Joey!" Her whisper snapped my eyes open before they were even shut, automatically shifting my neck muscles in protest, "Help me up!" Her hiss almost disappeared into the soft breeze; with a loud, irritated groan, I slowly gathered to my feet, wincing as my muscles pulled and cried in protest. Blood pulsed to my feet as they met ground again; once again, my head thudded violently as the vertigo hit me, panging against the side of my eyebrows as the darkness swirled around. Black, silver-dotted skies toppled up and about-it was as if I was about to hurl or something, watching the moon and the stars play juggling with one another. My insides churned to a sickly twist.

_No questions about it._

_I have a concussion._

"Joey!"

With another groan, I averted my eyes from the swirling sky and turned around, gulping back the creeping bile as I wavered at my feet. A few, unsure steps of foggy blindness brought me forward; without a word, I thrust my hand down into the darkness, leaning the other against the wooden railing beside me as I slowly squatted down to my knees.

Below, Scarlett was but a shadow; her petite form dangled in mid-air, tiny, pale hands gripping tightly onto the wooden ladder as it swayed dangerously in the cool breeze. Flaming red hair had been reduced to darkness, just like everything else around her-above and below us, the giant tree that housed Circe's tree-house creaked with life, moaning and brattling like the cracking of bones as the wind tugged at its massive sides. Large leaves shrouded all around us in a perfect blanket; down below, in the blackness beneath Scarlett, the jungle screamed and buzzed with life, dark trees shaking in the wind with noisy, unprecedented chatter. Weird cries flowed out of its never-ending bowels; there was no division, between the sky and the forest as the night blanketed all in the sea of pure darkness, the setting, faded moon and twinkling constellations but giving little respite in the endless sleep. The stench of ripe ashes flooded the world without mercy.

I really wanted to puke.

For a second, I just stood there, staring down into the deep, dark forest with a creeping chill that was only spiked by my sensitive, pain-molested senses; the forest was a hellhole. A riveting, endless hellhole full of all sorts of gnashing demons and pain-ripped monsters. A torturous hellhole of pure darkness-earlier in the day, it was fine, hot but fine. But now, in the darkness….

A chill shuddered through me again as the recent image of Scarlett and I running through that abyss, fleeing for our lives and grappling with fear, flashed across my vision.

The jungle beneath us was hell.

Period.

_God._

_I'm rambling._

_I must definitely be dying._

"Joey!"

Clearing my head and ignoring the stinging dizziness that still consumed me, I reached deeper down and grabbed one of Scarlett's cold, tight hands. Without a word, I pulled upward; the dark shape of the Lady tumbled upward as my muscles screamed in pure agony, my knees buckling beneath my as my stomach twitched and pulled wearily. My tongue tasted awfully bitter; within what seemed like less then 10 seconds, Scarlett's cold figure was sitting beside me on the Circe's veranda, her body crumbled against the opening with utter weariness. Ragged, deep breathing tore out of her small throat as the silk of her dress fluttered against my boot-clad shins; for a minute, we just sat there, two figures in the lone darkness, high above the world, hands still locked together.

Our hearts pounded like the booming of a drum.

My world was a giant whirlwind of black and silver.

"We made it," She whispered in the silence, weariness tearing through her voice. Her hand slowly slithered out of my own; I couldn't see a thing of her in the near-darkness. With a heavy sigh, I leaned back heavily, resting my weary, whirling head against the wooden railing.

"Yeah…out of the frying pan and into the fire."

Something stabbed at my chest, as if a blood-tipped knife had just pierced through me. Pain flooded my every sense as I tried to close my eyes; each breath hurt as my head tilted and whirled about without pause, like a ballerina on full-run. Blood pulsed all over my heaving form.

I really, _really _wanted to puke.

And die.

Beside me, Scarlett spoke again, her voice still quiet between breaths.

"After what we had just been through…no…not even facing Circe can be compared to _that_."

"What…what are you talking about? There is a more likely chance that we would get eaten up here then back down there."

"Yes, but at least we can make a run for it, if there was the chance-"

"Crazy, magical demi-goddess versus blood-craving animals of the wild…you get what I'm saying?"

Scarlett didn't reply.

Another minute passed as we both sat quietly on Circe's front porch, letting the darkness envelope us as the chill of the old night and the voices of the darkened world swarmed all about us. Creaks, jungle moans and ragged breathing filled my ears; my eyes screamed in protest in every blink, chorusing along with the pain that struck my head with a ferocious, digging fever. My tongue tasted like foul paper-

"We should go back," Scarlett spoke again, lowering her voice as she interrupted my reverie. Violent body heat radiated off her in stinging waves as she breathed ever more deeply, her voice having lost its musical edge in the wind and in pure weariness. The wood creaked all about us.

"We're already here, Scarlett."

"Joey, you're in pain-"

"I was already in pain from the beginning-"

"Yes, but you weren't trembling before," she retorted in between deep breaths as she edged forward slightly, moving quietly in the stifling darkness. Pink cloth swished against the hard wood; without another wood, shadows moved gently as a cold hand placed itself on my forehead, the silver of the moonlight lightly gliding across her hand. Sweaty skin, damp but cold, slide across my wet brow and half-atop my bandana as Scarlett silently checked my temperature, her breath still as ragged and deep as before. Leaves rustled noisily in the cool wind.

I made no protest at Scarlett's action as I rested my sore, pathetic form against the wood, blinking the horrible pain.

Scratch puking.

I just want to die.

"You're burning," Scarlett finally diagnosed after a few seconds, drawing back her wet palm as her jagged breathing continued. Voices, horrible and terrifying in the blinding night, called from down below.

"Am not. You just made that up."

"Joanna-"

"It's just the exertion," I breathed out hoarsely, letting a tired hand reach up to rub at my sore eyes, "It's my body's way of reacting to us running about like that."

"Nevertheless, we should return-"

"We're already here, Scarlett!" I snapped my head around despite the pain as my voice rose automatically, staring blindly into the darkness, "We already made it all the way-don't tell me you want to go trekking through good old Narnia again!"

"Narnia?"

"Forget it," I managed to grunt as I slowly brought my knees forth; without a single word, I ignored all of my vertigo and pain and pulled to my feet, the world swirling out of control around me. Stars wheeled about in streaks of pure silver-with a quick, soundless leap, Scarlett jumped to her feet and grabbed my arm, steadying me with her miniscule weight. Tight, small hands circled around my arm as my knees threatened to give way, my stomach convulsing to a stabbing pain; I wanted to die, to die right there instead of feeling so horrid like this…

"Joanna, please."

"It's Joey, bitch," I managed to hiss under my breath as I staggered forward, letting Scarlett help me along.

**8888888888888888**

Circe's tree hut was completely dark; it was as if a giant bottle of Indian Ink had been splattered across my vision, making me completely blind to the whole world. Nothing, no shapes nor shadows nor even the slightest bit of moonlight gleamed in front of me; there was only darkness, cold, chaining darkness reaching out towards me and swallowing me into its deep, deep bowels.

For a minute, I thought I had finally died.

And then Scarlett pushed me onward again.

Neither of us breathed as we inched forward through the cold, empty hut, our arms locked with one another as our feet moved in unison. Beside me, Scarlett's silk dress _swished _against my body as she held on to me, supporting me with her own, pathetic weight; despite the darkness and the calm respite it somehow brought, my knees still woozed beneath me, the exhaustion and pain fusing together into one, terrible entity. My mouth was dry as hell as my head jarred with loud clangs; taking in a deep breath, I let Scarlett lead me hesitantly through the darkness, matching each of her steps with my own. The slow breathing of her lungs filled my ears as we crept through the darkness, the thudding of our hearts loud and clear in the blackness all around. Bile stained the back of my throat.

Scarlett's arm was as cold as ice.

I really, _really _wanted to die right now.

Go ahead.

Call me melo-dramatic; I don't care.

I know-

"What are you willing to die for?"

"!" The scream tore out of our lips in a terrible shriek as the voice slithered through the air; in a loud _boom, _light exploded throughout the small wooden tree-hut, stinging my eyes with its bright colours of flaming orange and red. My heart practically flew out of my mouth as the shock stabbed its way through me-without a thought, my hand flew down to the hilt of my sword as the fire-light flooded all of the room in brilliant colours, wakening the differing shades of brown, red and the vibrant green all around us. Beside me, Scarlett's scream pierced through my veil of pain as her sharp, polished nails dig deep into my tight, sweat-licked skin, her green eyes wide with utter shock. The scream cut short in my throat.

Standing a meter in front of us, behind one of the rattan chairs that was scattered all over the hall was Circe, her red, red lips poised in a thick smile. The dark luscious curls that I had admired earlier on, during our first visit, was no longer straying all over her broad shoulders-instead, thick black ringlets had been piled all the way to the top, strands of dark falling all about that messy bun. Pretty curls framed her delicate face; in the firelight, she was as before, hard and beautiful with an ethereal glow that made her seem flawless and perfect. Not a blemish spotted her dark face, letting the wavering shadows dance over her skin like light over black water. Red ruby lips, big and vibrant against her dark skin, curled gently without any wrinkles, the dark orbs of her eyes hard and resolute like smooth granite stones. Her dress was as long as Scarlett's, though instead of pink, it was a pale blue, its soft silk sleeking over her lithe body like water itself.

She was as beautiful as before.

Only in a less Amazon womankind of way, now with the soft blue dress and all.

Scarlett had stopped screaming too.

"What?" She seemed to whisper, clinging on harder towards me as she gazed frantically about the room-there was no fire source, no torching candles and lamps or toasting fireplace. Nothing at all; it was just bright, absolutely bright. Outside, the world was still as black as a raven's feathers.

Despite my woozing head and my churning stomach, I was all the more ready to run for my life.

Without Scarlett, if it comes to it.

In front of us, standing like a stunning statue of a goddess behind the high-backed chair, Circe's smile widened.

"What are you willing to die for?" She repeated, her voice as usual; as before, it was a wonderful thrill, slamming down upon my ears like the crashing of a waterfall against some rocks. Shadows danced across her exotic face-a hard hand, perfect and smooth in the odd light, curved along the top of the chair, as if holding it for her safely. Despite the smile, her eyes were hard and cold as burning ice.

My heart screamed with alarm.

_Yup._

_This was _definitely _a bad idea._

With my arm still hooked around Scarlett for support, I tightened my grip around the golden hilt of my sword, the rough carvings pressing hard against my flesh. My trembling arm slowly inched upward, despite the panging pain creeping all over me. The sword _hissed_.

Scarlett looked like she was about to cry.

Taking in a deep, wavering breath, I spoke numbly, doing all my best to ignore the vertigo that still squeezed my sensitive senses.

"I…I don't understand."

"It is a simple question, young Joey," Her smile widened slightly, brilliant white teeth flashing momentarily through the gap and brightening up her enchanting features, "What are you willing to die for?"

"I…I-I still-"

"Here you are, walking about in a jungle, well past midnight with a stubborn concussion that is striving you towards the brink of death-"

"_Brink of death_?"

"…Coming to visit a woman who had earlier tried to kill you, with not but a single weapon…surely you are both risking your lives for something?

For a second, I blinked my eyes heavily as I tried to take in all the information; brink of death? BRINK OF DEATH? What the-

"It's complicated," Scarlett offered weakly as she looked up at the domineering woman with cowering eyes, her tight constraint over my arm preventing me from lifting my sword any higher out of its sheath. Not that it would have done me any good otherwise though; the fog was thicker then before, its horrid nature clouding my mind and muddling it with a web of lurid pain. The world around me seemed so surreal; despite the questions that now pounded against me, a sudden urge to lie down and sleep seized me, catching me by my throat. My knees threatened to give way again.

Circe's voice sounded like the laugh of dancing feys.

"Complicated?" She spoke again, raising a thin eyebrow towards the nest of curls that piled atop her head, as the strange, unnerving smile twitched slightly, "I don't see how your reason for your coming can be complicated Why are you risking deaths, little ones?"

"We don't-"

"What are you willing to die for?"

"Will," I managed to croak out, cutting off Scarlett before she could even begin as I squeezed the hilt of my blade even more jealously, "We're here because of Will."

No one spoke.

Through the swaying tumult of the world around me and the convulsing of my stomach, I spied Circe's dark face-a brilliant smile, so beautiful and enchanting, lit across her face, her dark curls framing her features in such a lovely fashion. The blue silk of her long dress shimmered like diamonds as a cool wind, rafted with the incense of smoke and hot lava, breezed through the room, her black hair swaying as well; for a second, no one said a word as the three of us exchanged stares, Scarlett's frightened, mine unclear and Circe, oddly happy.

Sleep was pulling at me again, amidst all of the swirling pain and gut-wrenching vertigo.

_Take me away, God._

_Please._

Bile was creeping up again.

As I tightened my grip around Scarlett, pushing more of my weight onto her and off my knees, Circe spoke again, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with her daffodil-dancing voice.

"Captain William Turner," She said the words out slowly, tasting each word as brilliant spokes of white teeth gleamed out of her dark face, "The handsome Captain of the _Flying Dutchman…_I see someone has taken your heart, young Joey."

"It's not like that," I grimaced my face as the words slithered out of my mouth, hating the taste of bile and bitterness that crept its way up my throat, "It's not…Will needs you, Circe-"

"Yes, yes…I know," the demi-goddess shook her nest of beautiful curls slightly as the smile dropped off her face entirely, leaving no trail or evidence whatsoever, "Young William Turner needs my help to get to the Fountain of Youth, so that he can reverse the spell and return home to his family…I know that story, Joey. It's older news-truly that is not the reason why you are here? To be a martyr?"

"Wait, you knew-"

And then it happened; with a loud groan, I heaved down onto the ground as the world swirled into a whirlwind of colours, spinning of its axis at an exhilarating speed. My knees completely gave underneath me; Scarlett let out a panicked yelp as my arms tore away from her and fell to the ground along with my body, my fist still clenched tightly around the hilt of my sword. Tough wooden panes, baked golden in the weird light, crashed against my bulked knees as I went all the way down, my hand slamming down in front of me helplessly in an all-fours position. My head turned and moaned and screamed with pure agony as the fog of pain stretched forth to claim me forever, blurring away all my other thoughts and actions. The horrid taste of pure, revolting blood flooded my gasping mouth.

Scarlett jumped down beside me.

_Blasted head._

Maybe God decided to finally let me die already.

For a minute, I just crouched there, gasping loudly at the seizing moment and staring down at the shadowy wood through teary eyes. My lungs pushed to be heard-Scarlett was beside me, a pale, cold hand wrapped around my bare, sweaty shoulders as she whispered frantically in my ear. Light and darkness danced before me in a wondrous, numbing mosaic.

My head screamed.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pure, seizing agony, Circe's voice filtered through the air, clear and brittle but edge with a certain emotion that now, through the blinding blanket of pain, I just couldn't identify.

"Bring her to the balcony, young Scarlett. I've got something for her."

**88888888888888888888**

There was something about a toasty fire that could numb all of your fears away.

Even when it was about 3 in the morning, with naught but the hellhole jungle, a cowardly though noble Lady and a crazed and terrifying demi-goddess for company.

Yes.

Even in that company, the burning coals were amazing.

With a soft sigh, I rocked back on my folded legs and gazed up into the brilliant night, cradling the earth brown mug close to my chest; silver constellations, like splaying fireworks of shining mirth, scattered all across the dark skies in varying, jagged shapes, dotting the black blanket above us in a myriad of unearthly patterns. It was like gazing into heaven itself-there had to be a billion stars up there, playing around the dark skies and shying about the cool wind as they twirled into the night, lighting up the world beneath with a gentle blue that barely lifted the ominous shadows that suffocated all of the earth. The moon was but a sliver of pale in the dark night, peeking among the crowds of stars like a single large eye, looking down upon the earth without a single thought. The black smoke of the coughing volcano smudged away its fine tip, like charcoal against white paper, as the moon gleamed a soft glow that did not but shimmer a cool silver all across the world. Leaves of the giant tree blacked out the glowing stars in small, pock patches, rustling with the night.

Things were so beautiful when you just came back from the dead.

In retrospect, of course.

Across the fireplace, snuggled up in the darkness in the folds of her flowing dirty-pink dress, Scarlett gazed down at the toasting red coals, her green eyes clouded with tumbling thoughts. The soft glowing charcoals had brought the colours back to her again; sitting there, pale arms wrapped around her knees, Scarlett looked like a little child's doll, her vibrant red hair burning beautifully in the glow of the small fire. Shadows flickered across her pale, stern face.

Why my brother was so in love with her was yet another mystery to me.

_Thought _he loved her, anyway.

The world smelt of tumbling ashes.

From behind me, Circe's soft, odd voice marked her approach.

"More, little one?"

Turning my head around, I spied the ethereal demi-goddess walking towards us through the darkness of the blanketing leaves and silver-dotted skies; Circe moved silently across the cluttered balcony, weaving through the maze of potted plants and up-turned chairs with padded feet like some sort of feline predator. She could have easily been invisible too; her dark skin and nest of black curls blended her into the gloom that swirled around us, camouflaging her perfectly into the dim night. In fact, if she hadn't been wearing that pale blue dress and carrying that green ceramic jug, I would have totally have missed her, leaving me more then open to her crazed attacks, if she should succumb to one again-I still did not know the deal of her earlier attack on me, but I had enough sense to keep quiet about it.

For now, anyway.

Either way, I had more important matters to deal with now.

As she neared both of us, the fire slowly baking her in the soft light and the gentle breeze kicking her strands of loose hair all about, I offered her a weary smile in return.

"No," I shook my head as I clutched my mug closer towards me, following Circe with my eyes as she circled around a large pot of bursting ferns, "No thank you. I think I have had enough-all the pain is gone already."

"Good," was Circe's answer as she approached even nearer, her chest heaving up and down with her smooth breathing, her voice like the trickling of a nearby stream, "But it wouldn't kill you to have a little more."

Before I could protest, Circe had strode all the way up to me; stopping just by my side, she bent over my sitting form and tipped the green jug over my cup. Loose black curls hung over me as water poured into my brown mug-the smell hit me again, the refreshing and heavenly scent of freshly grounded herbs and sweet nectar. _Sloshes _filled my eardrums as the sweet, clear liquid-black in the night- swirled out of the jug and deep down into my mug, wafting with white steam. My tongue practically jumped about at all the warning my other senses gave it. Satisfaction purred through me.

"There you are," Circe said softly in her odd voice as she withdrew the jug and the clear waterfall of sweet liquid, having stopped just as my cup was brim-full, "That should heal you completely."

"Thank you," I looked up at her sincerely as she pulled back, drawing the jug up to her chest as the dancing soft glow of the small fires played across her hard, sculpted features, "Really. Whatever this is….it's amazing, Circe. Thank you."

"It's no matter."

"But it is," I replied simply as the beautiful demi-goddess began to move away, turning her back towards me with a _swish _of delicate blue silk, "You saved my life, Circe. I owe you everything." Her messy, black bun was licked with fire as she turned, strands wavering in the cool air. Her shoulders, as usual, were rigid tight. Opposite me, near the edge of the balcony, Scarlett watched our exchanged with curious, fire-licked eyes, her arms tight around her knees.

She was but half-a meter from the plunging depth of the edge of the balcony, all the way down into the horrid jungle.

I was beginning to sweat under my red bandana.

Before me, standing up between Scarlett and I, Circe said not a word; instead, she moved forward, walking briskly towards the edge of the round balcony. Without another word, she bent down and deposited her green ceramic mug against the side of a towering pot of green leaves, dotted here and there with small red flowers. The cool breeze bustled against our skin like soft kisses from a lover's embrace.

It was such a beautiful night.

Beside Scarlett, standing up against the black ink landscape, Circe spoke again, straightening up from her bend with all the grace and elegance of a noble woman.

"Not without putting you in danger first, little one," her enchanting voice was low as she half-turned towards us again, the wavering light of the soft fire dancing along her sharp profile, "If not for me, you wouldn't had to have gone through all that pain." Her dark eyes, forever hard and cold, kept on the ground as she spoke, studying the wooden panes as her dark, long eyelashes fluttered against her high cheekbones. Whispers of black curls, almost identical to the dark background, played about her face.

Without a word, I exchanged a brief look with Scarlett, the latter shrugging her shoulders at me ever so slightly.

The cup was oh-so-warm in my palms.

"That's not important," I shook my head slightly, for some reason wanting to comfort this odd, terrifying creature, "What's important is that I'm fine now. Thank you again." I have no idea why I was being so nice towards her-she was right. She did attack me. If not for her, I wouldn't have hit against the ground so hard, thus getting that awful concussion that had plagued me for the past few hours. If not for Circe, I would have been absolutely fine.

For some reason though, I wasn't angry at all.

Standing beside Scarlett, outlined by the soft glowing coals, Circe breathed out a deep sigh.

"No it is, Joanna," she spoke as if she were talking to a child, breathing in deeply as her mysterious yet completely fascinating voice echoed through the clear, brittle air, "It is so important-"

"Then tell us," I found myself saying before I could stop myself, earning a half-glare from Scarlett and a mental scolding from my brain, "Then us why it's important…. if you don't mind me asking, Circe…I would really like to know why you jumped me."

Scarlett sighed across the baking stones.

As I slowly sipped my drink-it tasted like starburst- Circe said naught; instead, for a few minutes, she stared at her feet, eyelashes wavering against those strong, definite cheekbones. Curls stirred in the gentle wind as her lips quivered slightly-wherether she was thinking of her answer or was hesitant to say it escaped me.

The world swirled of rich, undying scent of new ashes.

Finally, with a low sigh, Circe spoke again, her voice like the rustling of leaves in a gushing gale.

"Because only you can save me."

"I'm sorry?"

Yet again, Circe paused, staring deep down into the groves in the wooden floor, neck bent. Her arms, now free of the green jug, folded self-consciously across her chest; it was odd, seeing her like this. After all, at the two times I had seen Circe, she had been so confident, her arms always by her side and her head always inclined as if she was royalty or something.

Now though….

Her voice was barely a whisper in the cool breeze.

"You have met with the sirens, yes?"

I almost spat out the swirling sweet manna that flooded my mouth and tingled my senses.

"How did-"

"I told you, young Joey. I see things. I _know _things-like how I know that those sea-witches had attacked you not too long ago…. besides, the scar on your face says it all."

Without a word, I self-consciously pulled my hand upward to grab at my face-the scar, of course, was still there, a jagged line that stretched through my skin from my forehead to my right cheek. A shallow river amidst my rough skin-it was a scratch, a claw-mark from where one of the sirens had hurt me so very long ago, in a battle that I couldn't even remember.

For some reason, it pained me just to remember that moment, that little problem with the sirens and how it led to the whole thing with Will.

_Just how long ago was that_?

"I don't understand," it was Scarlett who spoke now, watching me from across the burning coals with observant, glowing green eyes as she directed her confident-stricken voice at the standing demi-goddess, "What has the sirens have anything to do your behaviour earlier on today?"

There are days that you have just got to admire this girl.

With a quavering voice and demeanour so foreign and strange on her, Circe answered the red head, her voice soft and gentle like the whispering of the wind.

"You…you must understand, little ones…my m-mind…my mind isn't w-what it's…"

She stopped for awhile, studying the floor with her dark eyes shielded behind the canopy of black bangs, her cheeks bright orange in the dancing glow. Her red, red lips quivered ever so slightly.

Then, taking in a deep, cool breath and pushing a black curl behind her ear, she spoke again.

"The sirens guard this island."

"_What_?"

"They are my prison guards, little ones," Circe finally turned around, lifting her eyes up again as she answered my disbelieving question and Scarlett's own raised eyebrow, hard, dark eyes looking at me from among the darkness, "The three sirens, my mother's….hand-maidens…they are the ones that prevent me from leaving this place." Her throat bobbed as she gulped back-with a gentle _swish _of her dress, she turned fully towards us, her arms falling down to her side. A muscle popped at her tightly wounded jaw.

My insides clenched fiercely as I pulled my hand back from my scar.

Scarlett took in a deep breath.

"Guard how?"

"The usual," Circe shrugged slightly as she pulled her gaze off me to rest gently on Scarlett, her features once again gathering that unreadable emotions-all that fuss earlier, that glimpse we got of a fragile person had vanished into thin air, only to be replaced by hard, knowing figure that was Circe. Confidence and strength seeped into her form again.

It was still hard to forget that momentarily weak voice.

"You're a demi-god. We're human…what the hell is your usual?" It was my turn to speak.

"The usual," she answered again, looking back at me with those strange, unwavering eyes, her jaws tightening even more, "They guard this island-if I were to so much as step on that beach, little Joey, those three monsters would rise from their watery graves and ensure that I return back here, to this prison. They have marched me back before, in fact."

She was back to being immune to emotions again.

"Can't you just use magic on them?"

"Nothing can harm this creatures, Joey-that you must understand. Neither mortal weapon nor meagre magic can hurt these monsters, let alone destroy them. My mother's magic protects them, you see."

Silence.

Then…

"Sooooo…no seafood then?"

"Joanna!"

"What? It's a decent question!"

Standing beside Scarlett, glowing in the gentle shine of the burning coals against the black midnight landscape and drifting win, Circe offered a weak though odd chuckle.

For a moment, no one said a word as thoughts churned away in all of our minds; what did the hell did this all mean? The sirens…_the _sirens…they were the ones who were guarding Circe, keeping her prisoner here under orders from her mother-which, of course, brings back the very question of why in God's name would _any _mother trap her daughter on an deserted island?

I mean, what could have this strange…._ creature…._ have done to deserve such a horrid punishment from her own mother?

The sirens, nevertheless!

What could have possibly….

_This was all so bloody confusing._

Taking in a deep breath, I settled the warm cup in my hands down onto the floor beside my folded legs, letting the sweet, tantalising smell drift farther away from me. Up above, somewhere below the giant black ash cloud that clotted out the sky and filled the world with a smoky stench, a low rumble echoed through the volcano, vibrating our very bones. My stomach shifted uncomfortably.

The wind stirred all our hairs; pulling at Circe's loose strands, gliding over Scarlett's red curls and pushing against my own honey, bandana-held ones.

My bodice was becoming more and more tight around me.

With a soft sigh and a churning heart, I folded my arms down in my lap and offered my voice up to the still, statue-like demi-goddess.

"What does this all have to do with me then?"

For a second, Circe just stared at me, her hard, stone eyes like burning arrows against my own. Her jaw was tight and wounded shut. Flickering orange light, like gnashing tongues, danced away across her features, making her look more the lovelier. Black curls, like wispy smoke, played about her face in the trilling wind.

Scarlett kept utterly still.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Circe spoke in her odd voice again.

"It has everything to do with you, little one."

"I don't understand-"

"No, you mortals never do!" Her voice rose a little as she perched one fine eyebrow thin eyebrow high up into the cave of her black bangs, "You never understand anything that happens-"

"Circe, I-"

"Only you can free me, Joey," Circe spoke simply enough, her red lips set into a thin, perfect line as her wondrous voice ring out into the silence, "Only _you _can save me."

For a second, I just sat there, staring up at the enchanting demi-goddess, waiting for her laugh out loud and go, "PSYCH!"

But she didn't; instead, she just stood there, watching me with those eerie, unnerving coal-black eyes, the flames dancing in them and alighting them with a strange light. Not a muscle budged in her face.

Scarlett didn't even seem to breathing anymore.

"_What_?"

"It's why I….pounced on you earlier on," Circe explained with a quick nod of her head, her dark hands balling up at her sides into firm fists, "I thought…when I saw the sword-"

"Circe, you're not making one bit of sense-"

"Don't you get it, little Joey? Only _you _can kill the sirens."

It was at that moment, sitting in front of the glowing coals in the dead of the night, with exhaustion slowly creeping up on me, that I laughed; before I could help myself, a rich guffaw escaped my lips, shaking me silly as amusement spread throughout my warmed form. It was _hilarious_-the very thought itself, the very idea that _I, _Joanna Wolfe, was suppose to take on the sirens and kill them was just…outright amusing!

My sides were beginning to hurt from my growing mirth.

After a few minutes of amused chuckling and a fun-bout of downright laughing, I finally stopped; no one had said a word. Circe just stood there, beside Scarlett, watching me with those dark, untiring eyes. Scarlett just cowered in the streams of pink silk opposite me.

The air rang of my loud laughter.

Apprehension pulled at my heart.

"Wait," I dropped my laugh entirely, washing the goofy grin off my face like thinner rubbing off paint, "Wait…you're _serious_?"

"More then ever."

"No, no," I shook my head, letting the thick darkened curls that streamed out from under my red bandana shake along loosely, "You can't be…_Are you kidding me_?"

"I speak the truth."

"Then, you're obliviously delusional," I found my lips setting down into a frown as I slowly straightened my back, matching Circe's emotionless gaze with my own, "Because….because…you're mad. You're mad to think that _I _am suppose to kill those bitches!"

A muscle jumped in Circe's firmly moulded jaw.

Scarlett took in a sharp take of breath.

The wind our hairs again, pulling at the several leaves that curtained us above.

The winking stars watched silently.

"I am not mad."

"Really?" my frown was growing, "Really? Because you are really sounding like you-"

"I am speaking the truth, little one."

"The truth?" I raised a single eyebrow as I watched the demi-goddess with growing discomfort and apprehension, the frown spreading across my face as the wind chilled against my bones, "The truth…you…"

I didn't know what to say anymore.

As I took a breath, my mouth still hanging open, Circe spoke again.

"I know it is hard to understand-"

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Joey, it is your destiny."

"I don't believe in destiny," I furrowed my eyebrows as I glared intensely at Circe, ignoring the unearthly, eerie feeling that was creeping over me as I said the words as clearly as I could, "Never did. Not for one minute had I ever-"

"Tell me something, little one," Circe's lips twitched slightly as an eyebrow rose again, her face baked in the wavering orange that covered us all, "Tell me something-do you really think it was by _chance _that you are here?"

"I don't under-"

"Do you really think that you and your brother were brought back to this time, this century just so that you could hang on for the ride?"

For a second, the words halted me; truthfully, I had never thought of that. I had never pondered on why Calypso had brought us back here, back to the 18th century. No, I had never thought of that; all my attention, really, had always been focused on _how _we were to get home and more of other miscellaneous things such as Will and my oath to kill Sparrow.

An oath, apparently, that I have half-forgotten about.

Now that I think about it, I suppose I never really spent time wondering how we were going to get home-

"It wasn't luck or chance that brought you here, Joey," Circe spoke again, her voice softer and gentler now, like the swishing of raindrops against a pearl-smooth river, "There is a _reason _why you are here."

My blood chilled helplessly beneath my skin.

Without a word, I pulled my gaze off the beautiful demi-goddess and returned it to the firelight-baked ground, letting my thoughts flood loose in my brain.

My brow furrowed in disbelief; It couldn't be!

Could it?

My arms helplessly wrapped around myself as the wind rattled again, filling my nostrils with the smoky aroma of the ash cloud.

Whispers filled the world.

Could it?

For a moment, no one spoke as I gazed hard into the ground, my mind numb with doubt.

_Could it_?

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I spoke again, not raising my eyes from the ground.

"Let's say you're right. Let's say that I-"

"I am right."

"I don't believe in destiny," I repeated as I looked up at her, meeting her chilling, stone-black eyes with my own confused, brown ones, "I don't-"

"Yet, you face it even now," Circe's voice sounded like the tricking of fresh stream, "Fate is staring you in the face, young Joey. Fate of the most purest kind-"

" I DON'T BELIEVE IN FATE!"

"Then, explain the sword that hangs from your belt!"

_What_?

Without another word, I reached down my crumbled side and grabbed the hilt of my sword; it was cool beneath my clenched palm, its gold ridges pressing deep into my skin. The red ruby glowed with fire from within the strangling darkness.

"Pardon?"

It had been Scarlett's turn to speak.

"Your sword, Joey."

That was all Circe bothered to say.

With a thick gulp of bitter saliva, I drew my sword; it was uncomfortable to do so, angled from my sitting body in such a manner. Nevertheless, I got it out; with a soft _swish_, I drew the brilliant silver out from around my belt and off the side of my leg, holding it with one strong hand as it slashed through the darkness. Metal _twanged _helplessly as it moved like a silent predator, the fire catching it in its glow the minute I drew it out of hiding. My gnarled, bitten fingers held it fast as I pulled it just right in front of my face-it was beautiful as before, with its silver, razor-sharp edges and intricate design splaying about all that gold. The gorgeous ruby at the centre of its guard gleamed like staring, red eye, brilliant and majestic in the surrounding, gleaming gold-just above it, engraved upon the fire-licked silver were those strange lines, like wiggly patterns in a single, straight row. My scarred face seemed dark and fiery in the reflection of the unblemished blade.

As usual, the sword was snug in my palm.

I wonder why Seadog never used it, instead leaving it hanging above his fireplace like a painting or something.

_Ah, saving Princess Leia and retrieving the Verdad…good times, good times…_

For a second, no one spoke as I just stared at my sword, my thought tumbling about beneath my bandana; it was Circe who broke the silence, ringing the air with her strange voice.

"It was fate that led you to that sword."

Refusal bubbled within me.

"Nonsense," I drew my eyes away from my sword as I lowered it down onto my lap, loving the way-as usual- it fit so perfectly in my hand, "_I _found that sword. Sparrow had us go look for the Verdad and I took it from that Seadog's room…it wasn't fate that led me to it. It was _me_."

"I suppose," Circe nodded once, her eyes like perfectly moulded orbs of black stone, "I suppose you're right…then again, how odd do you think it is that you, Joanna Wolfe from the 21st century, would stumble upon the sword that had once belonged to the one who brought you here? A sword that hundreds have died looking for. A sword anyone, _anyone _would give the world to have. A sword that is the _only_ thing in the world that can kill the sirens."

Silence pulled all of us down into its murky depths again.

My head screamed and argued with doubt and suspicion.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You're telling me," I spoke slowly now, grabbing the edge of my sword as it laid on my lap with my other hand, not caring if the metal bit into me, "You're telling me that _this sword _is Calypso's?"

"No."

"Wait…but you just said-"

"I said, that the owner of your sword is the same person as the one who brought you here. "

Silence tugged at us again as the darkness slowly roamed above us.

The wind whistled and purred against my ear.

The stars laughed from their black beds.

My heart jolted.

_Wait…_

"Calypso wasn't the one who brought us here," I realized, widening my eyes as the revelation finally hit me square in the face, "She's not the one responsible for bringing Jared and I back here." It was like getting hit by bus; the idea, the _truth _just dawned on me like that, smashing right into me like a resounding, panging slap. The sword shivered in my trembling hands as the idea struck me right in my chest.

This

Was

Insane

_No doubt about it._

"Yes, little Joey."

The clattering of wood against the wood filled the air as the wind drifted over again, ruffling hairs and shaking leaves.

The aroma of ripe ash stuck in my nose.

After a half a breath of utter silence between the three of us, Scarlett finally spoke, her sweet voice as hushed as the wind.

"Who then? Who brought them here? Who's sword is Joanna holding?"

For a heartbeat's, no one uttered a word.

Finally, Circe drew in a thick breath, her cold, fire-molested eyes hard upon me as the enchanting, hypnotizing words, slithered out of her red lips.

"Someone important."

The memory of her staggered sobbing, through the fog of my just-healed concussion, flickered across my version.

My breath hiccupped in my chest.

For a moment, we all just kept quiet, letting the sound of the fire licking the coals echo throughout the small balcony.

An owl hooted nearby.

The sword felt cold.

_Can I use this to my advantage?_

With a loud sigh, I looked at Circe again, eyes focused entirely on her.

"Someone important?"

"Yes."

"You won't tell?"

"Not unless you want me too."

Without thinking about it, a weak, small smile stretched across my face;

_She just read my mind, didn't she?_

How peculiar is it that that thought didn't send me freaking out on the spot?

With a slight nod of my head, I cleared my throat.

"Then, how about this…" I looked her straight in the eyes, my brown ones meeting her own, sculpted black coal ones, "Let's make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yes."

"Of what manner?"

"Well…you said that I am supposed to kill the sirens, right?"

"Yes. That's what the spirits say. That's what has been written since the beginning of time- fate chose you to have that sword, Joey. The sword that will kill the sirens."

"And they know this?"

"Know what?"

"The sirens…know that I'm suppose to…kill them?"

"They are creatures of magic, little one. The very fact that they attacked you in the first place, out of all the others on board that ship or on the sea at that moment…Did they, perhaps, sing any song to you? A song that words-"

"Just answer the question, Circe."

"Most probably…. I'm not sure."

_I'm boggled too._

"Ok," I breathed in again, clenching my pained palm along the edge of the razor-sharp sword on my lap, my hair playing with the cool, tender wind, "Ok. Here's a plan; I free you. I help you escape this island, scare away the sirens as much as I can….wave this sword…blah blah blah…whatever…just know that I'll get you out of here."

For a second, against the low, flickering glow of the fire, a strange joy erupted across Circe's face; her hard eyes sprang to sudden life, so odd and wondrous as her red lips curved upward in a dancing smile, lighting up her whole face beautifully. Pure happiness, so strange and yet fascinating, spilled all across her features.

And then, with a snap of fingers, it was gone; pure passiveness and utter disregard came back to her again, her grin dropping completely off her face. All emotions were wiped clean; her eyes still sparkled though, the hardness and coldness in those black orbs having dissipated into twinkling flames.

This was insane.

Then again, I really wasn't thinking, was I?

"In return for what?" Her voice was as odd as usual, though slightly more like Christmas bells this time.

Clearing my throat, I slowly pulled to my feet, unfolding my boot-clad legs as their soles made contact with the wooden ground again; with a soft groan of my sore muscles, I stood upright, letting the soft cloth of my yellow inside-shirt flow downward and my black pants sort themselves out. My boots were careful not to hit too near my full cup; with a slow blink of my eyes, I clenched my sword in my hand and raised it, pointing it directly at Circe and letting it bake in the wondrous glows emanating from the roasting fire.

The tip was a direct arrow towards Circe's heart, about a meter away from me.

My curls were catching the light of the fire now.

With slow words, I gulped and proceeded to say:

"I free you, Circe, and in return, you _will _help us. You _will_ help Will and the rest of us find the Fountain of Youth. You _will _lead us to it, without any form of trickery or lies. You _will _help us. And, in later effects, you _will _also tell me everything you know about the owner of this sword and why, _why _we were brought here. I free you, and you will serve under me. You will do everything I command you do, less they betray your moral standings-if any- or I release you. I free you, Circe, and you _will _answer to me."

"That's a hefty price," Circe's nose twitched as something dark stirred in those stone eyes, snuffing out those sparkles instantly. Her elegant head inclined slowly.

"Freedom is a priceless thing."

"You, _a mortal, _expect _me_ to take orders from you, in exchange for my freedom?"

Scarlett gulped audibly.

"Don't worry-my orders would only consist of you helping us find the Fountain of Youth and you telling me everything I need to know. And finding me a good steak, if you please."

_What am I doing?_

"And if I break this deal?"

"Then, I suppose you're not as honourable as I thought you were."

Across the small fire, sulking lightly, something dark crossed Circe's black face, washing over her like a tide over sand. Apprehension gnawed at my heart:  
_  
WHAT AM I DOING?_

"You are bold," Circe spoke, her voice twisting slowly as her scowl deepened, "I give you that. Yet, your offer-"

"Look, you've got a choice. Come with me, show us the way to the Fountain of Youth, tell me everything I need to know, _help me_, and then, after everything you have done, I will release you from your bond. Or…. you can stay here, in this little island, far away from everyone, alone forever. And rot."

The air chilled.

My arm ached

Scarlett gulped.

My heart panged like drums.

Circe said naught.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Circe moved and did the oddest thing; without a word, she stepped forward with a _swish _of blue silk and with an outstretched hand, touched her right index finger at the very tip of my wavering sword. Her gentle weight pressed down against my heavy arm as she did the weird custom, touching the pointed edge with just the slight of the finger. Her dark, unmoving eyes focused entirely on me.

"I, Circe, daughter of Calypso and heir of Aygia, pledge myself in service of Joanna May Wolfe in return of my release from my mother's curse. I swear to keep my fealty to my rescuer until freedom is bestowed upon me or death take me. This I end, child of a god and from now onward, bond to a mortal."

_No doubts, folks._

_This was my worst plan ever._

**Ta-da!  
DONE!**

**This was pretty informative chapter, I believe, and probably raises a few questions. Don't worry folks; all these questions will be explained in the coming chapters.**

**Spoiler alert: There will definitely be more talk on the sword and why Joey seems so important to…well…destiny. To those of you can't stand the wait, well, all I will say is that:**

_**JOEY IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN USE THIS SWORD BECAUSE SHE WAS CHOSEN!**_

**Yup. That's all I'm saying, even though I'm DYING to say tell you all! However, that sentence is the only clue I'm giving.**

**Sobs.**

**I know.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, guys and please leave reviews. I really love them and they are really what keeps me going! Thanks so much guys and until next time!**

**P.S. World Cup fever, baby! **

**XOXO**


	30. Escape from Circeland

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Things will be explained soon, everyone.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 29: Escape from Circe-land**

Truth be told, I had no idea what exactly I was doing.

It was like head diving into a pool, even though you didn't know the proper way to do it, or like jumping onto the dance-floor of a popular, crowded club, even though you knew nothing about how to shake your hips.

In the other words….

I was idiot.

After all, who in God's name would ever think to bribe a beautiful but ultimately dangerous demi-goddess into helping her, holding her to the side with but a single oath?

_Only me, apparently._

In front of me, Circe was like a fleeting ghost; with a gentle swish of her pale blue gown, the ethereal witch dashed through the darkness ahead of me, moving silently among the black brambles and broken leaves. Her dark skin blended her perfectly into the utter blackness; not a feature-not a eye or lips-could be seen as she led the way ahead of us, moving like the shadows that towered all over us in menacing shapes. Her blue gown, soft and beautiful in the stray moonlight, was the only thing that could identify her in the horrid gloom, her soft footsteps no help at all as the forest roared around us. She did not even seem to breathe; instead, Circe was no more then a spirit of the forest, skipping about the complete darkness as if she could make out the way through the utter night.

The sight of her, gliding about the darkness with not but a flash of blue, would have scared any mortal man dead on his feet.

Hell, the sight of her was scaring a little too.

Beside me, Scarlett panted heavily as her short legs struggled to keep up with us, her glossed nails digging into my palm. Her ragged breathing clouded all the other noises of the black, never-ending jungle in my ear; with a sharp intake of breath, the both of us jumped over something black in our way, landing on the broken twigs with a loud, resounding _crack_. Red hair, dark and silver-tinged in the dying night, flapped at the edge of my vision as Scarlett gave out a loud gasp at the fall, her feet stumbling about the pale pink of her gown. Something chattered just at our heels.

We were back in hell.

Eyes gleamed out of the darkness all around us as my heart panged beneath my bodice, utter terror seizing my heart.

Scarlett's hand squeezed mine.

Without another word, we charged onward again, hand in hand, running through the dark abyss after the tail of Circe' pale blue gown. Up above, the black canopy hid the heavens away; yet, despite it thickness, stars still glittered gently down at us, the frail moonlight casting the world in a myriad of complete black and shadowy silver. Deep chasms of pure black surrounded us at all corners; it was like running about with a blindfold strapped around our eyes, blinded to all of the world. Our harsh gasps filled our ears above the cries of the forest; apian screams, bird calls and other unidentifiable roars echoed all around us, pressing us on as our thighs burned from the never-ending run. The loud _crunches _of our footsteps carried on about in a endless rhythm.

Sheer horror strangled me in its palms.

My heart screamed.

In front of us, complete devoid of any sense of exhaustion or emotions, Circe's voice whispered through the blinding darkness, like the hiss of a slithering snake rich with the sound of twinkling bells.

"I can't believe the two of you came all the way here without any light. Surely mortals can't see in the dark."

As we ran onward in the dark, my entire body dripping with exhaustion and my heart yelling with fear, Scarlett answered for us beside me, her voice rasped with pure weariness.

"I…. We d-didn't…. Jo…Joey dropped the...l-lamp…"

" I see."

And that was all she said.

For another good 5 minutes, we ran through the dark, the moonlit tail of the pale blue gown our only direction, our only hope. Pain burned in my legs; I wasn't a runner. I never was. It was Jared who was good in sports, not me; hell, the most I could do was run about 400 meters before crashing down in utter exhaustion. Pathetic, I know-I was just never the fit one, never the sporty one. I couldn't run to save me life.

Except right now.

For some reason, I couldn't get the image of silent mountain cat trekking after us in the wilderness or wide-eyed tiger…did tigers live around here, at least back in the 18th century? I don't know…

Scarlett almost tripped beside me.

With a loud groan, I heaved my aching arm and pulled her along, not caring if she tripped about and hurt herself in the suffocating, never-ending darkness; I couldn't lose her. Not here, not in this hell-if any of the both of us was to be left behind, or to get lost in the utter shadows, then there was no hope at all. Absolutely no hope; we couldn't get lost. We couldn't get left behind.

Not if we wanted to live.

I was on the verge of crying, really.

Near the brink of tears.

Without a single word of exchange, Scarlett and I chased after the ghostly form of the demi-goddess, holding onto one another, giving each other strength. Twigs and broken leaves hit against my black boots as I tried to ignore the pain surging through me; I wanted light. I wanted it so badly, to see the light burst through the leaves and chase away all the shadows, bringing life back into the world. I wanted to ignore the bright eyes gleaming at us from out of the darkness, to not see and imagine the animals that watched us in silence, ready to pounce. I wanted to get out of this jungle, to rid of that ash scent, to feel the wind again, to see light, to see the sea…

_I wanted to go home._

My heart panged with utter dread.

My legs were beginning to tremble.

I squeezed Scarlett's hand.

And then, we were free.

With loud gasp, Scarlett and I stumbled through the thicket of black trees only to meet with light-in front of us laid the open sea, black midnight in the darkness of the world. The sound of soft waves, crashing upon the dark shore, suddenly flooded my senses as the wind rushed at us almost unexpectedly, pulling at my loose curls and tugging at the red bandana. The sweet, tantalizing scent of salt inundated my very thought as my feet stumbled over one another in a abrupt pause; my eyes widened inversely as the suddenness of the wonderful scene gripped me tightly, dissipating all sense of horror and terror within me. My breath caught short at the beautiful sight; in the distance, far away at the black horizon, the sun was rising. Warm colours, vibrant orange and smoky red, slashed through the black clouds as the light slowly seeped into the world, tingeing the tips of the waters with a slight, bloody red. The looming dark shapes of the three ships that were docked to the right was contrasted against the brightening sky, the wavering gleams of the wonderful colours gliding over the tall sails and massive hulks. Sequins of pink began to blot out the nearby stars.

My heart panged at the sight.

_Dawn has arrived._

Beside me, Scarlett breathed out a sharp word.

"Father."

Turning around, I gazed at the shorter girl with pure curiosity, fear and horror having left my very being; Scarlett's delicate face was streaked with the warm colours of the dawn, brightening her brilliant hair all over again. Green eyes, bright and wide, stared out into the horizon with a quick shiver; without a word, I followed her wide-eyed gaze, tracing it slowly.

Against the horizon, like little black blots on a straight line, were ships.

Dozens of ships.

Numerous ships, staked in a straight line, moving stealthy across the slumbering sea, outlined against the approaching dawn.

They were so minuscule, so far-off and yet…

"Holy crap," I hissed under my breath as my lungs gasped for air, taking in the salt-rich atmosphere as if I was licking up a delicious bowl of soup. My thighs still burned from the exhaustion of the run; beneath my boots, the white sands crumbled away, glazed with the colours of the rising day. The last of the grass kissed against my heels as I shook Scarlett's hand off and bent down to press my hands against my knees, my eyes still trained to the dotted, beautiful horizon. My chest heaved rapidly as my eyes stung from all the exertion; we had to go. We had to go now if we wanted to avoid a bloody war with Scarlett's father. Then again, we could just leave Scarlett with her daddy and have her explain everything-

"Joanna, they are here" Circe's odd, mysterious voice pulled me out of my little pocket of thoughts; tearing my gaze away from the gleaming horizon, I looked at her sombre form, standing alone on the pale white sand, the wind ruffling her dark nest of curls as she stared into the waters. The pale blue of her silk dress flew back in a cascade of glorious azure.

The sky was brightening, the day approaching at rapid speed.

The waters were churning white.

_I saw them._

Three naked women, pale and beautiful, stood at the brink of the tide, their bare feet washed in the soft comings and goings of the black waters. Their figures glowed against the rising sun in the east; there were utterly white, their skin a ghastly hue as pale as pure white snow. Long white limbs dangled off their perfect, curvaceous torsos-they were lovely, with long, wet black hair that shrouded their sharp, angled faces and dangled above their round, heaving bosoms. Perfect red lips, like stunning roses screamed out of their bony white faces as their long, white legs stood in perfect attention; icy blue eyes, so unbelievably cold and bright, slated out of their gaunt faces in sharp slits, like those of a cat's. Dark eyelashes, long and pure black, kissed gently against their shock white cheekbones as they blinked in slow stares, their noses sharp and perfect in their faces. Black strands, as dark as the sky behind and the ash cloud above, shivered in the gush of the salt-tainted sea wind.

They just stood there, three ominous figures in a single line, beautiful and still.

As cold and silent as death itself.

The last time I saw them…it was a dream…the battle I couldn't even remember…

For a moment, a forgotten memory flashed across my mind:

_Liquid black water…. surging waves…gnashing claws…surreal pain…flashing lights…horrid bile…taunting laugh-_

"Joey," Scarlett whispered into my ear as she inched forward and grabbed my arm, her breath still staggered and short. Sweat crusted her curled fingers; in front of us, limed against the rising day, the three lone figures didn't move, their lips glued into straight streaks of pure red. Icy blue eyes watched us without a single thought.

My heart jammed in my chest.

My breath froze to solid.

My legs began to tremble.

_What _am _I doing?_

Circe said naught a word.

For a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other across the pale white beaches tinged with a reddish-orange cast.

Icy blue eyes met mine.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, a voice slithered through the rushing air, sending an icy prick up my spine.

"_We meet again, Joanna_."

My heart stopped; it wasn't the same voice from the ship, from that night that they attacked me in the water. It wasn't the same, sweet voice that had tempted me into a dance-no, it was different. Much different.

Terrible.

Haunting.

_Bone-wrenching._

An urge to run overwhelmed me.

To the left, one of the sirens lifted her head slightly; they were identical, now that I realised it. Absolutely identical; they had the same nose, same lips, same high, white cheekbones, same cold, unbearable eyes. They were exact copies of one another-mirror images, triplets in perfect sync.

A chill shuddered through me as I considered the thought, my eyes still trained on them; these were women before, ordinary women who were taken away, killed and reused by their predecessors. They had their own faces, their own identity…

It was as if I had been completely frozen into place.

I couldn't breath anymore.

Circe's odd, musical voice vibrated through the air.

"Let us pass, Scorns of Calypso."

The one who had lifted her head slightly, the one who had moved, spoke now, tilting her head sideways to glare down at Circe with those horrid eyes.

"_Circe_," her voice was like a snake's, low and almost lost in the rushing wind, the very sound begging my legs to kick into a masterful sprint, "_You should go back to your tree_."

My insides surged with apprehension.

"I rather not," Circe spoke simply enough, her face as emotionless as usual, her black tied-back hair ruffling in the coarse sea wind, "We seek to leave this island."

"They _can_," the one in the middle spoke now, a note higher then her sister with the same, horrid hiss, "_But _you_ can't, Circe. You must stay here_." Their voices were horrid, like metal scraping against metal, or bone against bone. Pure and ripe fear bubbled within my chest at the sound; every part of my senses was lost as I heard it, my tongue growing bitter and foul. A part of me wanted to break down and cry right there.

"I'm afraid…I do not plan on staying here."

"_Truly it is unwise for you, Circe, to defy us_?"

"Yes," Circe nodded her head, black curls shaking, "Yes, it is. But I'm not the one who challenges you now."

"_Then who, witch_?"

"Balder's heir."

Without another word or sound, all three icy blue eyes swivelled over towards me; Circe too cocked her head in my direction as she spoke the final words, her dark skin cast with the reddish hue of the birthing day. My insides churned; wait, _Balder_? Wasn't that the Norse God or something? I mean, I _think _Circe might have said some-

"_We know_," all three voices slithered together, horrid and loud in the wind; I wanted to shrink away from their glares, their terrible, unnerving glares…

With a deep gulp of the sea-tainted air and with a quick gather of my strength, I did something I would have never thought of doing, something I knew, in every _fibre _of my being, was going to get me killed; I drew my sword.

With a loud _scrape _of metal and a shake-off of Scarlett's hand, I grabbed the golden hilt and pulled it upward, flashing the silver out into the world. The sword swung into existence; as usual, it felt perfect, snug in my palm, parallel right in front of me. An extension of my arm, really, as it caught the rising sun's glow in its silver cast.

A deadly, beautiful extension.

A strange exhilaration thrilled through me at the sight of the beautiful weapon in my hand; this was a special sword. A deadly sword.

A sword that could hurt the sirens.

Something weird surged in my heart.

In front of me, against the orange-cast sky, the sirens moved all together; black silk hair swished as they cast each other discreet looks, their leeching, horrid blue eyes pulling off me with quick flicks. Pale, bone-white skin glowed sickly.

I could do this.

I could really do this.

_Oh, whom am I kidding?_

I inched the sword forward, slanting it and holding it in a ready position as I spoke, my voice like a scratchy croak:

"L-Let…Let us pass," I tried to breath calmly, letting the hot air hiss out between my lips. Cold, horrid eyes glared down at me again; I couldn't tell what they were feeling, what they were thinking. All they were doing were staring hard, watching me with dreadful, _dreadful _eyes that could have sent any grown man shrieking. A sickly chill was creeping into the warm air, freezing my tight fingers around the golden hilt. My throat was extremely drying.

I must look like a fool, standing there like that, holding the sword as if I knew how to use it-when in actual fact, I didn't. I was just putting on a show; tell me, _how _did I come up with this crazy idea again? I mean, I'm not really going to fight off the sirens, right? _Right?_

Oh God.

What have I gotten myself into?

A flame of panic began to surge through me.

The sword was beginning to tremble.

"_No_," Was all the sirens said, chorusing their horrid, hissing voices into a single note. They truly sounded like snakes, emotionless, beautiful snakes; beside me, Scarlett was utterly quiet, her ragged breathing having stopped completely. Circe just watched me from the corner of the dark, dark eyes.

Silence flooded the world above the soft crashing of the waves and the howling of the sea wind.

Fingers of colours were spreading farther into the sky.

The ships on the horizon were still there.

All three pirate ships were utterly dead and silent.

_I don't want to fight them! I never planned on fighting them; I just wanted to scare them away! I just wanted to wave the sword, tell them it's…whoever's…but it didn't work! IT FUCKING DIDN'T WORK! Does that mean I have to fight them now? _Fight _the sirens? I don't even know how to use a sword! I mean, the only time I had ever fought with a sword was with Bootstrap-_

For a moment, I closed my eyes, shutting out all of the world. My breath pumped out of my body in slow waves as I took in the sea, letting it rinse its way through my entire body. My heartbeat pounded away inside of me.

_Will._

I opened my eyes.

"Go to the boat, Scarlett," I spoke quietly, suddenly certain of what I must do-what I had to do, what was required of me. The sword seemed to burn in my palm as I watched my three rivals in front of me; their cold eyes were silent, utterly dead as they watched me. My sword glinted radiantly in the soft cast of the rising sun.

"What?" Scarlett's voice came as whisper by my ear, full with her usual fear and dread. Circe just watched me with her still, hard eyes.

"Go," I nodded again, not taking my eyes off the three, pale creatures, "Take Circe and go to the boat…it's over to the right, by those rocks, remember? Go now."

"But-"

"Go, Scarlett."

With a swipe of her glistening red hair and a soft sob, the petite Lady ran away from my side; with quick, bare feet and a flow of her trademark pink dress, she ran to Circe and almost fearlessly grabbed her by the arm. The stern and quiet demi-goddess didn't protest; instead, she allowed Scarlett to pull her softly, letting the small Redhead lead her away, away from the sirens and I. Locks of black curls swished in the air as she slowly turned from me, her eyes like coals of burning black.

The sword grew strong in my hand.

"You asked me what I was willing to die for."

At my voice, both Scarlett and Circe froze in their tracks, Scarlett fully turned now towards the boat and Circe only half-turned. Blue and pink silk played together in the wind as the two women turned back to face me, their faces shaded by the wondrous colours of the brightening sky. Part of me watched the still sirens as another turned slightly to gaze at the two of them, the sword gleaming like fire in my hand. Scarlett's pretty face was etched with complete fear and dread while Circe was completely still. The jungle was buzzing behind me.

"You asked me what I was willing to die for."

Circe nodded her head once.

The sirens said not a word.

Scarlett uttered another sob.

A seagull called above.

"Will," I said simply I gritted my teeth, my hand tightening around the gold hilt, "Will…. I'm willing to die for Will. No matter how insignificant my feelings are for him…are the lack of his for me…it's him, Circe. The answer to your question…it's Will."

My heart pattered about in a nervous rhythm beneath my bodice.

The volcano rumbled softly behind us.

The wind rustled my hair.

For a moment, no one said a word as I carried on the staring competition with the sirens with half of my attention still on Circe, trying my very best to ignore those three pairs of horrid, icy eyes. My heart thudded to an odd pattern.

And then, in the stillness of the silence and the gushing of the wind, Circe smiled faintly, her red lips cracking upward in a small smile.

"And that's why, little one, Balder chose you."

My heart skipped all over again.

And then they were off; without another word, Scarlett and Circe ran off towards the stranded boat, their feet silent against the pure white sands. Red and black hair flapped and danced in the rushing wind; for a moment, I watched them, my heart screaming to follow them, to run after them and escape this island with them.

But no.

I had to do this.

I _had _to do this.

For Will.

For Circe.

For pure revenge.

"All right, pussies," I gritted my teeth as I swivelled all my attention back onto the three sirens, the fear gnawing away at my thudding heart, "Who's first?"

_Oh, what am I doing_?

In front of me, the sirens watched silently with their terrible eyes.

I gulped.

Then, something nasty happened; without a single word, a sickening sound, like that of tearing flesh, reverberated through the air; right before my eyes, claws crawled out of the each siren's fingers, one for each of their 10 fingers. It was like massive, pointed steaks-they just ripped through the skin, tearing through the tip of the fingers like the claws that come out of Wolverine's knuckles. Only here, on the sirens, it was horrid-they were terribly long, as long as my forearm, 10 thin though bloody sharp steaks tipping near to the ground. Blood, red and pure in the rising sun's glow, dripped down their pale, gaunt hands and onto the washing tide, the horrid steaks piercing slightly into the waters. Black, sleek hair trembled in the wind.

_Oh, crap._

"_We are_," their voices slithered together as a smile crooked upon their lips, a terrible, unnerving smile that made me want to dig a hole in the ground and hide my head in there. Gaunt cheeks, like sunken black holes, crinkled as red lips writhed in a horrid grin, teeth flashing against their unholy white skin.

They had fangs.

_They had fangs._

Of all things-

Without warning, all three creatures screamed and charged forward, their voice sending cold, blinking chills down my spine as their lithe legs glided them across the space that divided us; I didn't have time to contemplate though. With a loud, hoarse cry, I swiped the sword forward, letting it cut through the air with a sharp _zap _and a flash of cool steel. My wrist surged at the awkward position- in front of me, the monsters didn't even faze as I cut through the air, their black hair whipping about in the cold wind. Red lips, like blood, had been pulled back into identical feral snarls, their razor-sharp fangs glistening as droplets of blood scattered about from their long, pointy claws. Pale hands reached upward in a ready position.

_Oh Holy Mother of-_

The first of sirens finally reached me, clawing ahead of her sisters with a twisted, blood-tinged grin; with a skip of my heart and a stagger in my knees, I brought the hanging sword back down through the air, anti-clockwise of my previous motion. Silver glinted through the air- with a loud _crash_, the sharp edge of the fine sword smashed into a tirade of claws, each point blood-tipped and brown. For a moment, my blade got lost in the forest of claws, the creature in front of me snarling with wide, horrid eyes; grabbing the gold hilt with both hands, I grunted out loud as I applied all of my strength through it and hauled it off the left, my wrist moaning as the blade fell free from all those steaks. Black, wet hair flapped in the dawn-light as the creature gave way under my impact, falling awkward to the side at my hard push. My arms screamed with the tension.

It wasn't over though-sharp claws cleaved through my exposed left shoulder and bolted me with white hot pain as another of those sea-bitches clawed me from the side, her snarling teeth glinting in the orange light. Pain shredded through me; with a cry, I pulled off to the right, the sword flying from my hand as I reached upward and grabbed at the wound. Blood, red and hot, bubbled down my skin and between my fingers, leaving tendrils of pure red seeping down into the yellow cloth. My heart screamed in my chest as shock overtook me for a second.

My brain stopped working for a minute.

A minute too slow, apparently; my knees gave way as the other of the sirens pounced on me, the one who had yet to attack me yet. Dank curls and a heavy head smash down onto the cool sand as the creature jumped onto me, her cold, wet body smashing atop of me. Black strands, oily against my skin, wavered in the orange light as the horrid face growled down upon me, but an inch above me as her claws dug into the sand on either side of me-it was like staring at a skull right in the face and no, it wasn't like Albert. No, it was dreadful; gaunt cheekbones, white, gleaming fangs with razor-sharp edges, blood-like lips, cold, soulless blue eyes…

It was like staring at death right in the face.

My scalp prickled helplessly as terror squeezed my heart dry.

My shoulder sobbed in agony.

White arms began to pull upwards, retracting the claws from the ground-

With a sharp yell, I drew up my knees to my stomach and gave a massive kick, slamming my steel toes into her naked, cold stomach; with a loud shriek much like that of a scared cat, the horrid monster flew off and behind me, smashing into the dark trees with a loud _rumble _and _crash. _A terrible scream etched out from her lips as she hit rock bottom.

Not even bothering about that one anymore, I jumped to my feet like a lithe cat, reaching down to swipe my sword off the sand, grabbing it as if I actually_ knew_ what I was doing. Muscles screamed in protest at my quick movements; with a quick swipe of dark blonde curls, I turned around just in time to catch another siren's claws with my blade, the silver sword rising up to meet the horrid stakes at a speed I never knew was possible. Cold, icy eyes stared at me from above a furious snarl; without waiting a single moment or batting a single eyelid, I pulled my sword free of the tangle of claws and swiped above it with a flash of silver…

And cut off the siren's head.

For a moment, the world stood still as the gaunt, pale head whirled through the air, leechy black hair flying as cold blood splattered about in huge, red drops. The edge of the spinal cord flashed in the waking sunlight as the head flew off its stump, leaving behind a raw, red mess of gnarly flesh and pure white bone. Tendrils of veins and muscles reeled through the air along with the head, flapping about like the wet, sickly hair. Cold, icy blood spattered against my taunt, sweaty skin.

Utter silence flooded my ears.

And then, without another word said, the headless siren toppled to the ground, landing in the sand with a heavy _thump _and splattering its blood everywhere. The pale, monstrous head landed a few meters away near the shoreline, digging deep into the sand with its horrid snarl still etched across its pale, dead features. Cold eyes, soulless and empty, stared out through the curtain of black hair.

Bile gushed up my throat.

_Oh God…_

The world had snuffed all out all the sounds as I stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving at the decapitated body at my feet, my jaw falling as the sword glowed red in my head. Tendrils of icy cold blood began to trail down my face.

It was as if my shoulder no longer bled.

_Oh God_…

Then, the noises came crashing down onto me again; with loud, horrid cries, heart-piercing and so terrible that my ears felt like they could bleed, the remaining two sirens rushed forward, their blood-tipped claws reaching desperately. Blood-curdling screams tore through the air as they glided over to their dead sister, bending over, their lips ripped apart in torrid, heart-squeezing shrieks. Sobs ripped out of their naked bodies-my blood chilled as I just stood there, staring at the corpse at my feet, a limp, headless body being held and wept over by her sorrowful sisters in horrid, _horrid _voices. All the other sounds were blocked off by their loud screams, their torturous laments reaching high up into the breaking dawn like the last cries of a dying animal. Bile flooded my mouth.

I did this.

_I _did this.

I killed her.

_I killed her._

Then again, she had it coming….

_But does that really justify what I just did?_

Oh God…

What have I done?

"JOANNA!" Scarlett's scream broke through my thoughts, bringing me back to reality; lifting up my head from the sobbing sirens and limp corpse, I looked above their heads, towards the bulging sea and the three still ships off to the right. The bloody sword shivered by my thigh as I pushed back the bile and tried my very best to ignore the horrid screams and dread pulling at my heart; in the midst of the brightening water, washed by the warm colours of the beautiful dawn, a small boat rocked on the waves, just a meter or so from the shore. Brilliant red hair and a lock of black curls glistened in the small, gleaming boat.

"JOANNA! HURRY!"

I didn't want to think again.

Without a thought of all the dripping blood that glossed the fine, silver edge, heaved my arm upwards and dove the sword through the belt, holding it in place at it's hook. Thin blood, like brilliant paint and as bright as Scarlett's hair, shredded through the side of my black pants; without another look at the convulsing, screeching sirens, I ran, sprinting off to the right with all the strength I could gather. I didn't bother to look back as my boots pounded against the cool sand, my hair whipping against my stained face like a lashing whip. Bitterness tried to conquer my mouth as my heart panged again; at the horizon, the ships were nearer now, bigger black blots on the straight line. Orange and red were slowly giving way to a brilliant blue.

_What have I done?_

When my feet hit the water, I didn't stop; instead, I trudged onward, marching through the black waves as fast as I could. Dark water, tinged here and there by orange caps, surged all around me as I strode deeper into the water, the wet sand sucking my boots deep into their endless bowels. Salt spiced my eyes miserably.

The screams tore through the world behind me, prickling my scalp.

My heart thudded in my ears.

_What have I done?_

With a quick breath of air, I plunged completely into the waters, letting the darkness consume me; terror of the sea, of the deep was completely forgotten as I swam for my life, pushing and kicking with all the power my tired body could muster. Gloom surrounded me underneath the rushing waves-with quick takes of air, I swam the length towards the boat, fighting against the current as it swirled my aching and sore body around like a casual toy. Salt water flooded my mouth without failure; pain exploded the moment the salt hit my wounded shoulder, tearing through my body in a writing agony. Blood pulsed the hot, relentless anguish through me like streams of torturous current-I couldn't see, not in this light, but I was almost sure that I was leaving a trail of blood in my wake, a path of bloody red waters. My eyes stung from all the salt and rushing waters.

The screams reached me even then, beneath the horrid, dark waves.

_What have I done?_

Finally, my flapping hands touched pure wood-petite hands gripped my wrists as they shocked out of water, the dark emptiness below drawing me in as my stinging eyes met the complete blackness of the hull of the small boat. My fingers gnawed helplessly; with a loud, streaming gasp, I burst through the water, pushing myself upwards into Scarlett's arms. Wooden cracks bit under my palm as I grabbed onto the edge of the boat, my arms peeling out of the black waves as they struggled to pull me up. Salty water streamed off me in gushes as I pulled upward, Scarlett's hand grabbing my arms as she yanked with all her insignificant weight. Red hair rippled into view as I tugged my body farther up towards the boat, the sword and metal boots pulling me down into the depths….

And then, I was in the boat, crawled against the side, wheezing for air. Water streamed off my weary form as I panted for air, my drenched head resting against the side of the wooden boat. Blood flowed down with all the seawater as the tears flooded away my vision-in front of my gasping, drenched form, Scarlett was yelling at me, her voice like a foggy dream in a far-off place.

"Joanna! You're bleeding!"

"Figured that part out long ago, Redhead," I managed to croak out a weary grin as I shifted to see her better, letting the image of her sun-glossed hair shimmer into my vision. Waves lurch up and down beneath wooden floor-it was sickening, as if someone was hanging me upside down or turning me around and around in a tight circle. My stomach lurched helplessly, like a twisting tornado; before I could stopped myself, I climbed the sides with frantic paws and retched out a slimy mess into the churning waves, pouring out all the horridness that screamed within me. Tired, teary eyes stung as the foul substance burned out of my mouth.

_Oh God._

The screams flooded my ears like panging stabs to my heart, stabs that tore through me and leaving deep, gaping holes in their wake.

_What have I done?_

"Joanna!" Scarlett patted my back, her red hair brushing against my bare shoulders, "Joanna! Are you alright?" Her voice, as usual, was sweet and ever musical, like a song in the rocking waves. The shrieks cut through the air like claws through skin.

My heart lurched.

_Oh God._

"Alright?" I retreated slowly from the gaping waves, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as my legs stretched out along the length of the rocking boat, "Alright? I REEK OF BLOOD! HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSE TO BE ALRIGHT?"

The taste of horrid vomit still stained my mouth as I pulled back from the waves and down into the dark corner of the boat, leaning my head against the panelled in utter exhaustion. Screams bled through my ears mercilessly.

_What have I done?_

Without another word, Scarlett reached down to the hem of her dirty pink dress and tore the edge off savagely, ripping a cherry slit the width of my palm. With quick fingers, she folded the rough slit into a small square and pressed it down onto my open wounds on the shoulder, squeezing against the blood. White hot pain, worse then when I had touched salt, bolted through me as the cloth made contact-without a thought, I unleashed a cry, a scream that melded perfectly with the sirens' never-ending ones. Agony stabbed through me, as if the claws had raked their way through my skin all over again. My body convulsed helplessly beneath the horrid burn.

_Oh God._

Scarlett, however, didn't relent; despite my groans and cries, she pressed down onto the wound, holding off the bleeding with ferocious fingers. Through the blur of my pain-filled tears, I saw auburn hair whip through the sprinkling waters and yell at a solemn, dark figure at the back of the rocking boat.

"Get us out of here!"

_What have I done?_

**888888888888888888**

By the time Circe had rowed all the way back from to the ships-with magic, of course-everyone on board all three ships were already awake, bustling above the orange-red decks with loud chatters and heavy footsteps. Sails were being drawn up and whipped into the burgundy wind- where ether the pirates had been woken up by the approaching naval ships at the horizon or the horrid cries of the mourning sirens was a mystery to me.

All I knew was that the world was awakening.

And that the pain wouldn't stop.

With a grumpy sulk, I let Lestrade heave me up the last of the ladder's step, his rough hands hauling me onto the wooden deck of the ghost ship via my arms. Shoulder muscles, torn and screaming like hell, rolled painfully as I climbed over the last edge and onto the dark deck, the wooden floor hitting against my body like cold shock. I was already shivering as it was- water still streamed off my body as I staggered onto the bustling deck, my bloody sword _clanging _at my side like loud, hollow bells. The siren's s screams echoed through the rushing wind.

Weary hands wiped at my drenched face as I climbed fully to my feet, water gushing all the way to the ground in thick, clear rivers.

My hand still held the bloodied pink cloth at my shoulder.

Lestrade had left me to help Circe up now.

Pain stung at through me.

In front of me, the undead pirates swarmed about the dark decks in a frenzy, pulling at ropes and merry-go-rounding a big top-knot that brought up the ancient, heavy anchor from the dark seabed. Voices pierced through the mournful screams; despite it all, the undead men of the _Flying Dutchman_appeared shaken from the horrid sounds, matching the pale, gaunt faces of the terrified men on the other two ships. Boots thudded and vibrated against the panelled floor-in front of me, Scarlett was patting out her pink dress, her red hair shining against the dark clothes of the buzzing though visibly disturbed pirates. Aching, heart-squeezing cries flooded away the sounds of crashing waves.

_I really wanted to go home._

Behind us, Lestrade was still helping Circe up.

As I tried to squeeze out the water from my hair with one hand, wincing through the pain in my shoulder and the several eyes that watched me from the bustling mass, a voice thundered above the horrid scream, matched with the pounding of fast feet.

"JOEY!" Captain William Turner practically screamed as he charged through the sea of his crew, pushing his way past the moving bodies, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

He was furious, that was certain; his face was a turbulent red, veins bulging as he shoved and pushed his way through the shaken pirates. Dark brown curls, tinged orange in the breaking dawn, flapped about widely underneath his dark bandana as he rushed forward, his feet thundering against the slimy green wood like the loud banging of a drum. Dark, dark eyes flashed rage at me as his lips curled away in a thick snarl.

Oh, yes.

Will was furious.

As usual.

Behind him strode the usual cavalry; Bootstrap, Barbossa Sparrow and Jared walked casually behind him, the latter matching his pace as fast as the undead Captain. Violent blue eyes flashed like daggers in the orange light; without a word, Jared overtook Will and enveloped Scarlett in a bear hug, his muscular, orange arms wrapping around her small frame and staggering her back a little. Radiant crimson hair, all the more beautiful in the rising day, flapped helplessly in the wind as the two of them embraced silently, caught in their own world for just a second. Pale arms took a little longer to return the favour; nevertheless, it was a hug, a pure, loving hug that sent a little smile crawling at the edges of my lips.

A sweet, beautiful hug.

And then, Will spoke again.

"Have you lost your mind, Joey?" He barked loudly, dark curls shaking as he stopped right in front of me, his dark eyes violent with pure rage, "HAVE YOU UTTERLY LOST YOUR MIND?"

Behind him, the rest of the small party kept silent, the other pirates watching us with brief, pale glances as they hurried about their work. White sails flapped along with black ones in the cold, taunting sea wind, just above our heads. The sirens' screams were like stabs through my very being.

In front of me, Sparrow didn't even acknowledge my presence; instead, his dark eyes were trained to something farther behind me, his expression verging on something I just couldn't quite read.

Barbossa and Bootstrap looked slightly minxed too.

Voices and screams filled the air like the choking ash cloud some miles away from us, at the volcano.

The beach still wavered in sight.

Drawing in a deep breath and with a sidelong look at my embracing brother, I clamped my hand harder down on the bloodied cloth, sending rivulets of pain shooting through me.

"Dude," I sighed deeply, looking at the furious, quite red Will with as much calm and confidence I could muster, "We _all _know that I never quite had my mind in the first place."

Seagulls called ahead.

In front of me, Will bit down on his lower lip with a livid growl.

"You think _this _is funny?" He looked like he could just punch me, his eyes almost as black and dark as Circe's, "You think…you think wandering off in the middle of the night, alone, to the _island_-"

"Will, let me say-"

"You do think it's funny, don't you?" He barked, clenching his fist by his side as his dark hair played about in the cool wind, the screams flooding away all of my thoughts, "You think this is hilarious-"

"Don't put words in my mouth! I never said-"

"I woke up to a siren sighting _and _a flock of ships approaching from the east, Joey! I had all my men awake, rushing about….and then, word reached me that _you _were missing! You and Scarlett-"

"I had to do what I had to do, Will! It was-"

"Right! And how exactly is going back to the island, _alone,_ part of what you had to do? And how the bloody hell are the sirens involved in any of this? Why on earth are they screaming like this- one of Barbossa's man just shot himself in the head from all this racket, Joey! What in bloody hell did you do-"

"WOULD YOU JUST STOP SCREAMING AT ME FOR 5 MINUTES AND JUST LISTEN TO ME!" I hollered, grabbing Will by his muscular, tanned arms, not caring if the blood-stained pink cloth fell away from my wound and down to the ground, leaving the gaping cuts completely open. My own voice deafened all of the world-the terrible, horrid screams of the sirens and the pirate's own voices0- in a quick rush as I practically blew my lungs out, squeezing my tired hands over Will's firm arms as I glared fiercely at him. Dark blonde hair, somewhat golden in the rising light, swirled in front of my eyes as Will's own dark curls twisted about in the lapping wind, his jaw slamming shut and his dark brown eyes wide with surprise. The golden medallion twinkled deep down his sweating, heaving chest.

For a second, no one said a word as I held my place, my hands clamped fiercely over Will's upper arms. Blood, hot and fiery trailed down my shoulder-but I didn't care. Now wasn't the time for pain, after all. Loud, coarse voices mingled with tortured cries as the seagulls called overhead. Quick glances and a handful of attentive stares pounded against the side of my faces.

My brown eyes met wide, dark brown ones.

My breath caught momentarily.

_Will._

Taking in a deep breath, I ignored all the sounds and glances as I focused all of my attention onto the man right in front of me, looking up into his beautiful dark brown eyes, hands over arms. Tendrils of brown, limed with orange, tickled against his shock-drawn features.

The world seemed like a swivelling mess.

"Listen to me," I said softly now, inching forward a little and melding my own eyes into Will's oh-so-beautiful ones as my hands squeezed gently over his arms, "Listen to me…I know I was irresponsible, and I know I should have told someone-"

"You shouldn't even have gone!"

"Now _that's_ exactly why-"

"Would yer two lovebirds stop it already?" Barbossa hollered away behind Will's shoulders, flapping his ambient arms and causing me to throw an irritated glance towards him, "De ships are coming' now! And de sirens-"

"Have been dealt with," I answered hollowly as I glared over Will's shoulder at him, pulling my hands away from him with a quick swipe, "They won't bother us again." The lost heat, the precious, addictive heat of Will's body faded away as I took a step away from him, my arms retreating back to my side-I had been too close to him.

_Too close._

In front of me, Will looked slightly shaken.

Jared gulped off to the side, his arms still around Scarlett.

Circe was silent in the background.

The world still churned and turned with the vicious cries and tumbling footsteps.

The anchor groaned beneath us as it sidled through the water.

"Tell me dis, luv," Sparrow grunted softly, ducking his head slightly as one of the many wooden branches of the mast swivelled overhead, pulling taut the white sails that prepared the ship for departure, "What exactly is yer idea of 'dealt with'?"

"Meaning?"

"What yer do to dem?" He cocked his head, dark, kohl-rimmed eyes watching me without a single ounce of his usual sardonic manner as he twitched his famous beard, "What de hell did yer do to dem, luv?"

His eyes kept straying to the quiet, probably smiling Circe behind me.

A free hand grasped at my gold hilt as the screams escalated an octave.

Someone was screaming for the undead pirates to push harder.

My scalp prickled horribly.

I gulped.

Taking in a deep breath, I matched each one of their gazes, trying to appear as confident as I did not feel.

"Well…I killed one of them."

Silence.

Then…

"_WHAT_?"

"I killed one of them," I repeated, frowning slightly as everyone in the cavalry's jaw seemed to drop a mile-off, their faces pulling taut and pale in the sea of charging bodies, "I killed…it's not that big a deal, people-"

"Wait, wait, wait…" Bootstrap frowned, his slimy wet skin sinking deep into his dark, black wrinkles, " Yer telling me-"

"Yes, yes, you freaks, " I shook my head, swinging dank curls beneath the tight grip of the red bandana, "I _killed _one of them…Now, can we _please_ get a move on? I really don't want to meet that one's father-"

"No one has ever killed a siren before, Jo-"

"You killed, Joey? You actually killed some-"

"Blimey! Yer tellin' me, lass, dat ye have killed one of those-"

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" I yelled again, cutting off the questions with a fire-fuelled yell, letting the cold, morning hair whip my hair into a frenzy as my hands flew up my sides, "Everyone just shut up, alright? I just have enough-"

"You're telling me," Will stopped me there, shutting me up with his calming, strong voice, his dark brown eyes wide upon me, "You're telling me, Joey, that you killed one of the sirens? _The _sirens? Creatures no man could ever kill?"

"Apparently," I shrugged a little as eyes widened all around, shock drawn upon all features. It was like I just told everyone I was actually a man or something-no one said a word as the noises of the waking world flooded over all of us like a gushing tide, the screams tearing its way through my body, through my soul. Blood, thick and bitter, rolled down my shoulder in hot streams-they just stared at me, shock completely painted into their very features.

Just…. stared.

The pain was rocking me all over again.

"H-How?" Barbossa whispered now, his yellow eyes wide beneath the giant sundial of his black knit hat, his straggly beard wagering in the wind. His voice was like a snapping of fine wood.

_Lolling head… headless body…bloody stump…_

"Does it matter?" I sighed, holding onto the gold hilt as I tried to control my voice, doing my very best to ignore the surging screams and trail glances, "Does it really matter?"

"Well, it is the _first _time-"

"I cut off her head."

"What the bloody-"

"Are you insane-"

That was it. With an irritated, well-deserved cry of frustration-one that blended into those tortured screams- I turned around and marched forward, ignoring all the pirates and their stares as I headed straight for the hull of the ship. Orange colours, shreds of red and yellow, tore through the sky now as the ash cloud loomed over the island in front of us, just a plot of orange-tinged trees in the red seas-without a word, I stalked my way to the pointed hull with loud, thundering feet. Cries of my name resounded through the air but I just ignored them-with a hefty frown, I reached the wooden hull of the ship and jumped forward, my metal boots planting firmly onto the wooden ledge with a hard, quick jump. Gushing sea wind, cool in the air, pushed against my back as I grabbed onto one of the many ropes and held myself in place, letting my orange-tinged curls rushed to the side in a single blanket of dark blonde strands. Feet struggled to affirm my place as the very head of the ship.

Before me, the island loomed about in the wake of the rising day, the beach a pearl white tinged with warm colours.

Figures, pale and naked, were bent down near the trees.

_The sirens._

For a moment, I just stared at them, listening to their horrid, tormented screams and ignoring all of the world, even the cries of my name or the ships that neared us each second. Red waves, rolling and churning, played about beneath me, rocking the boat and all over us in a steady rhythm that never seemed to end. White sails splashed against the orange sky.

For a moment, I just stood there, watching, listening, seeing.

Not feeling.

Completely still against the wind.

_I was indeed insane._

Sparrow's voice slithered away somewhere behind me, by my feet.

"Yer know they are goin' to come after us, right?"

Black smoke moulded perfectly into the orange sky.

Trees shook in the wind, far away.

Screams filled the air.

My heart thudded.

"Let them come."

**TA-DA!**

**END OF CHAPTER!**

**Ok, honestly, I'm not fond of the last part of this chapter…so sorry about that.**

**Other then that, thanks for all the reviews guys and please give me any comments you have about the story.**

**Thanks and see you soon!**

**P.S. Again, sorry about the last part!**

**XOXO**


	31. Some things never change

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**I can't believe I'm on my 30****th**** chapter! WOHOO!**

**Anyway, I apologise once again for my poor judgement for the writing style and dialogue with the last part of Chapter 29. Really sorry about that and I promise to improve on it with this one. REALLY SORRY! This chapter is just a little…well…I'm not sure how to describe it. You just have to read it, I guess. **

**So, thanks for all the reviews and please enjoy this one.**

**Chapter 30: **

_Lolling head…tumbling black hair…pale, gaunt skin…red, splattering blood…ice white bone…limp, pink flesh…frozen, bloody lips…liquid black fan…trickling, red streams…dead blue eyes…_

"Have we lost them?" I shied away from the glow of the bright evening sun, my eyes squinting downwards from the shimmering light. Beside me, leaning against the side of the ship with a long, gold-tinged telescope to his eye, Will frowned slightly, his fine, smooth features baked in the gold-white glow of the drawing sun. Dark curls, like ringlets of liquid stone, flapped back in the wild wind, dashing across his tanned features with lilts of gold fleeting about. Beads of sweat, like glittering diamonds, dotted his rugged goatee.

My own hair flew madly in front of me.

I was sweating all over again.

Beside me, standing by my dangling legs and parallel to my hip, Will pulled the long eye-scope away from his bejewelled eye, flicking them up to me in a beat of a blink.

"No," his voice trailed, his hand dropping the telescope down towards his side as he swivelled those beautiful, haunting eyes up towards me, "No we haven't. They are still there…and honestly, I doubt they will leave us any time soon." His eyes, his brilliant, memorising eyes were like slits of gold as he peered up at me, his entire face cast with the gleam of the bright sunlight. The gold medallion winked at me from the sliver of his chest; for once, Will wasn't dressed in his usual maroon shirt or tight black bandana. Instead, he wore his familiar, leather black jacket, the ends of which dropped all the way to his pants-claded calves. A liquid white shirt, embroided in a stiff pattern and belted at the hip, fitted perfectly to his wind-washed figure, the deep collar plunging deep down to his mid-chest. The hilt of his sword, as usual, glinted like pure silver at his side.

Everything about him, from his flying curls to the black cuffs on his wrists, seemed to glow like a beautiful spell.

As usual, the man was beautiful.

_And so very far away._

With a slight rock to my dangling legs, I shifted about atop the ledge, my hands gripping firmly to the hard wood.

"So technically," I spoke again, looking down at him with as much as a smile as my weary body could muster, "We're doomed."

"It's not that bad," he offered in reply, shrugging his firm shoulders gently and rippling the smooth leather like liquid, his voice calm and smooth as usual "We've practically lost them for now-by nightfall, we won't be able to see them again."

"That's because it'll be dark, genius."

From his stand beside me, glowing in the beautiful light, Captain William Turner's lips turned upwards, a tired, weary smile stretching across his benevolent face. White gleaming teeth flashed from between his lips, like the most perfect pearl; with something that sounded like an odd chuckle, the man reached forward with his free hand and patted one of my knee, reaching up only a little to grip the unsteady mount. Heat burned through the tight pants; for a moment, we didn't say a word, our eyes locked into one another through the blinding glow of the late afternoon sun. His fingers splayed out across my knee, hard and hot like fire; dark brown eyes, but slits in the bright light, gazed down towards his hand over my knee, studying it for awhile. My heart lurched.

And then, just like that, the fingers and palm pulled away, leaving a patch of raw heat stinging through my skin.

I gulped helplessly.

And then, I turned away.

It had been like this, just like this for the past two days; quiet moments, quick, quiet moments that either of us refused to acknowledge. Shy, unspoken moments where my heart would spin, my stomach would twist and my entire fibre of being would scream to jump into his arms and hold him. Terrible, horrid moments where the man and I would interact in the simplest of manners…and then blend right back into our unspoken mutual agreement of casual friendship.

Moments.

That's all the days seem to be now.

Just moments.

To say that things have changed after two days ago, after my freeing of Circe from that island and my killing of that one siren, would be an understatement indeed; everything was different now, even though they didn't seem like it at times. I mean, I still wore the same clothes, the same unwashed, stinking clothes that Scarlett had sewn for me a week back, with that so-called magic sword always hilted to my waist. I still wore Albert's red bandana; in fact, Albert was still where I had left him, sitting on the table in the room I shared with my brother.

In fact, I had made it a point to say goodnight to him, every single time.

Yeah, yeah.

I know.

_I'm crazy._

I was still me, and from a stranger's point of view, nothing really changed; well, except for the fact that none of the pirates, dead or living, will talk to me now, let alone acknowledge my presence; or how Sparrow is in the worst mood I had ever seen him in; or how Jared is convinced that I'm suicidal and is forever mad at me; or how Scarlett and I are spending more time talking and laughing together; or how a crazy, demented demi-goddess was locked away beneath our very feet….

And Will.

Then again, nothing was ever quite stable and consistent with us, was it?

I mentally kicked myself hard.

"You know, I miss the old days…" Will let his voice trail away beside me, almost diminished in the rushing wind. Turning around, I returned all of my attention back onto him; he was staring out into the sea, the cold wind pulling back his hair into a cascade of gold-ringed brown. Far-seeing eyes, large now as they turned away from the sun, gazed out into the deep waters, his eyelashes like flickers of gold at each blink. A small smile, like a creeping ghost, still tinged at the edges of his lips. Voices yelled ahead.

"What old days?" I raised an eyebrow down at him, eyes still squinting; despite the fact that I was practically leaning at the very edge off a hundred feet drop into cold, whipping waves, I brought up a single hand to shield my eyes against the torturous white glow, balancing on just one arm. My hair whipped across my face like a thick, relentless whip.

Was it me or was my hair becoming thicker?

Must be the blasted sea air or something.

Beside me, by my dangling legs, Will leaned forward, draping his leather-clad arms into a fold on the ledge. The edge of his elbow sidled against my hip as he adjusted himself appropriately, the long, golden telescope peeking out of his hand.

"You know," he spoke in his usual, calm manner, the ghost of a smile still playing upon his lips as his dark beautiful eyes stared out into the white-gold sea, "Before all this madness."

"You're the undead Captain of the _Flying Dutchman,_ Will," I offered a weak smile in return as I gazed down at him, not caring if he saw or not, "How much madder can that get?" My insides twisted away slowly; directly in front of me, behind Will's razor-sharp back, the undead pirates surged about the ship in work, maiming sails and pulling ropes. A couple or two of them busied themselves with the washing of the deck; none looked at me, not even for a moment.

Not even Lestrade all the way up at the helm.

_Bring home a crazy witch and this is what you get._

Farther beyond the ghost ship, the other two smaller pirate ships sailed along at the same speed, the lithe _Betty _surging ahead of the crowded and bloated _Black Pearl._ Voices mirthed through the fresh, roiling sea air.

My hand fell back down to my lap.

My eyes remained squinted.

Beside me, Will spoke again.

"True," an odd chuckle passed his lips, my eyes squinting hard down at a sun-washed features, his voice somehow louder then even the howling wind and the yelling orders, "That is quite mad. Still…things were much less confusing and crazier about a month ago."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well," he let his voice drag on, all attention focused onto the lashing, bobbing waves, "Firstly, last month, I wouldn't even dream about teaming up with the likes of Barbossa and Sparrow again, even if it meant the world."

"True…"

"Or…hell, I wouldn't have fathom the possibility of time-travel."

"True, true…what else?"

"Well…well, plenty. Uncountable, and I can't quite think about it right now…it's… just been a crazy month out here, with the lot of you…especially the part where an 18 year old girl from the future _killed_ a siren."

"Why do you always have to bring it up?" I groaned out loud, smashing a fist vertically into the wooden ledge with frustration. The smile completed wiped off my face; without another pause, Will turn up towards me, his brown eyes like orbs of brilliant gold in the waning sunlight. His lips had fallen down into a thick frown.

Annoyance surged it way through me, rendering me hot and bothered.

My muscles purred with the strain of my intense frown.

My knuckles knotted.

"What?"

"The siren thing," I looked blatantly down at him, holding my deep frown as I squinted against the blinding light, "Why does everyone-"

"Because no one has done it before, Joey," Will's frown creased as he looked up at me, dark eyes slitting slightly at the sun, "No one has killed-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I waved a hand at his direction, throwing off his voice as I looked away from him with slight disgust, towards the spiralling wooden mast and surging pirates, "I'm a genius. I'm brilliant. You people should worship me, bow down to me, love me with all your might-"

"Probably."

"Aye, but they don't."

"That's probably because you brought Circe on board, Joey," Will's voice called louder against the howling wind, his voice the same tempo and tone as usual, even though a frown did creep into his tone, "The men…well, they probably think you signed a pact of with the devil or something, bringing her on board like that…"

_Well, they aren't far off._

For a moment, we just kept in silence, looking in different directions. The wind rustled our hairs; it wasn't hot, just bright. So unbelievably bright-for a minute, I just sat there in silence, lapping up the world that surrounded me, the noises and voices, the sights and smell. The wind tugged at my skin, like a hook pulling at my body. Crisp sweat glided down my face, like a frosting of a cake. My boots hit against the wood in a repetitive _thud._

For a moment, we just enjoyed each other's company in silence, our thoughts private to our own.

Not that I had any to share, though.

I mean, what was there to think? Besides the sword at my waist or the witch beneath my feet or the headless body of the pale siren, there was really nothing much-

_Will._

Oh, bugger.

Finally, after a long, deep silence full of thudding boots, rushing voices and moaning wind, Will spoke again, his voice as smooth and calm as usual.

"How _did _you get Circe on board, Joey?"

"For the love of God, Will!" I cried out suddenly, spinning dark blonde curls around so that my gaze found Will's once more, "We can't be talking about this again, are we? _I told you!_ I'm not telling you anything about it…all that is important is that she is here, and that she can lead us to the fountain."

"But-"

"Drop it, Will."

"Fine."

And silence engulfed us again.

For a good 5 minutes, neither of us spoke, our eyes in completely opposite directions, our beings separate. The wind rushed and pull; without a word, I just watched the crew bustle about in front of me, somehow slightly amused by the extremes they took to avoid my gaze. Giant waves rocked everyone about in their swaying pace. Seagulls, for some odd reason, circled overhead.

I sighed helplessly.

With a loud grunt, I reached forward and grabbed the telescope out of Will's hand, pulling the sleek though heavy metal out of his grip. A surprised yelp, soft and almost inaudible in the wind, escaped Will's lips as the long telescope flew out of his hand and into mine, the bright, bright sunlight gleaming it's gold-tinted edges in a blinding white. Curved metal, hard and heavy, sank down into my palm; without another word, I swivelled halfway around in my perch on the ledge, drawing the telescope all the way up to my right eye.

It was oddly heavy.

Ignoring the itching feeling of Will's eyes on me, I peered hopefully into the dark hole, fighting back against the lashing wind as it threatened to tear me off the ledge and push me back down onto the deck. The ship rocked like a swinging pendulum; yet, I didn't care. Instead, I just sat there, half-turned around, looking out through the telescope as my body leaned precariously over the edge of a hundred-feet drop. The bandage clamped over my left shoulder had began to peel off already, its pale white sheet rustling about along with the pale yellow of my shirt. My curls flew backwards in a relief.

_Bloody annoying._

For a moment, the damn metal weighed down in my hand as a blur of grey covered my eye, the vision faded and unclear. However, a few twists to the circling metal and all was better; it was then, through the small hole of Will's telescope, that I saw the vivid image of ships along the horizon, white-sailed and large, approaching through the thick waves. They were too far away to make out any details, yet they were there; downright evidence of yet another problem that haunted our every step. Evidence that dotted the horizon in every direction.

_Great_

"Shouldn't we be going in the other direction? We're sailing perpendicular to them."

"Not unless you want to fight against the wind, like them. They are fighting a hopeless battle-trust me, Joey. By sunset, we would lose all sight of them."

"You sound confident."

"I am."

For a moment, I withdrew the telescope away from my eye, my eyes helplessly squinting down at a sun-baked, wind-washed Will. His eyes too were slits in his face-just slits of gold peering out of his handsome face, staring up at me against the fire of the light and slap of the gale. His dark brown hair was just a cascade of gold-tinged auburn behind him.

"There has to be a better way," I offered as I looked down at him, holding my balance as the ship rocked out of a trudging swell. My body wobbled uneasily over the edge; in my hands, Will's telescope nearly slipped out of my grip.

"A better way to what?"

"Deal with them," I nudged the telescope in the direction of the approaching ships, invisible in the blinding light and great distance, "The navy…Scarlett's father…there has to be a better way then running away like this. It's so cowardly, you know? Kind of pathetic…especially for you."

Beside me, arms still folded by my hip, Will heaved out a heavy sigh and pulled his eyes off me; up above, in the white sky, a stray cloud suddenly pulled over, hiding away the afternoon sun like a blanket over a bright light. Almost immediately, the piercing brightness of the day paled into a dank grey, the dark cloud above thick enough to subdue the worst of the white-hot rays. Everything returned back to its normal colour; beside me, Will's face reverted back to its dark orange shade, the grey, black and white of his attire returning once more. Dark brown eyes lost its golden shine; they still glowed though, like beautiful pyres in dark, encroaching night. His dark curls danced away.

The sea paled to a cold grey.

_I didn't like the water like that, so dark and cold…_

"Well, there _is _no other way," Will shrugged slightly as he looked out at the sea again, his brown curls rushing behind him in a flowing stream, "The armada…The only other option for getting rid of them is…well…giving Scarlett back to them"

"Yeah…that's not going to happen."

From his post beside me, Will offered up a weary grin, brightening up his face and twisting my heart all over again. His hard, tanned knuckles wrapped against my wooden, dangerous seat with mild amusement as his eyes sprang up into life.

"Making friends, now are we?" He seemed to find it amusing for some reason, his voices rolling out in a chuckle-tainted voice. The smile, like a crack of white in his face, widened with each second; for a moment, I just wanted to capture that smile, to pop it on a camera with an instant flash and make several copies of it. I just wanted to hold that smile forever.

I just wanted to make him happy forever.

With a tongue pressed against the side of my cheek, I resisted the urge to smile.

"No," I said as forcefully as I could, maintaining my half-turned position on the ledge as I fought to rid myself of the creeping grin, "No way. No way in hell. Not with that one, at least." A strike of humour pricked through me; that smile, just seeing that smile…

The ship lurched all over again, sending my stomach flying about my body with tight, untameable knots.

I wanted to kill the bloody driver of this thing.

"Really?" Will's smile widened even more as he looked up at me, pure humour dancing in his beautiful eyes, "You and Lady Errol aren't beginning to bond?"

"Are you kidding me?" I snorted as I helplessly rolled my arms into a tight fold across my chest, my hand still gripping onto the telescope as the wind rushed at me, "_Scarlett?_ Please…the only r-reason I don't want her to leave us and go back to her father is…well…her dad wouldn't care if we gave her back. Hell, he'll still come after us for some sort of mis-placed sense of revenge!"

"Right…"

"And…A-And my brother…Jared would be devastated if his sweet lil' princess was to leave-"

"Of course…."

"I'm doing this for my brother!"

"Of course you are-"

"Stop that!" A smile cracked across my face as Will threw back his head and laughed, filling the rushing, cool air with his loud, joyous mirth. His teeth gleamed like pearls between his lips; the sound of his laughter, of his beautiful, surging laughter got me smiling even more, my heart springing to life at the sound of his hilarity. Every part of me felt like it could just start singing and dancing right there; beneath me, the sea lurched about, almost spilling me over the ledge but I didn't care. I just wanted to smile, to hear his laughter….

All of a sudden, the world shook; without a chance to even scream, I felt my body heave backwards, the impact of the sudden swell slamming me back against my weight. Muscles screamed in my stomach as my feet shot up into the air; with a loud cry, Will rushed forward and grabbed me, his lean arms wrapping around my waist like iron bars. Lungs practically flew out of my mouth as those iron arms caught me, my head spinning helplessly as the wood rocked away beneath me. Loose arms flailed limply as the thought of death, of plummeting into the cold, dark waters…

And then, I was back on the ship, my boots planted firmly on the floor, my body parts in all the right places. Dark blonde curls flew madly about in the wind as the wood rose to meet my feet again; I was alive, God damn it! I WAS ALIVE!

And Will's arms were around me.

He held on to me, his lean hands tight around the edges of my leather-clad waist. Short fingernails, as biting as his heat, dug its way into me, through the thick, brown leather; he was right in front of me now, about a hand's breadth away, looking at me with those dark, beautiful eyes. Strong, lean arms encompassed me in a tight space; for a moment, I couldn't do anything but look up at him, relishing in the strength of his heat and the gaze of his eyes. Hot air caught in my throat as my heart stopped beating entirely in his grip; it was like the rest of the world had faded away, all noises and sights gone as Will's entire being took up my only purpose. Dark curls shivered against the unyielding wind as his lips parted just above my eyes, his beautiful, _beautiful_ eyes engulfing me in a tide of wondrous, incredible emotions. Every part of me wanted to sing out with joy, my every cell springing and jumping with the astounding, unbelievable feelings; he was so amazing, so, _so _amazing…

Without another word, Will inched forward, his face soft and tender as he closed the gap between us in a single movement. Hot air radiated and stirred at his action; a small gasp, almost gone in the wind, escaped my lungs as he moved so very near, his sweet lips parting ever so slightly. Rough hands, strong and unyielding, crushed against my waist; with a staggered breath, our noses touched, like points of fire kissing gently against one another. His shoulders moved closer as our skin slid nearer each other, our body heat clashing together like surging tidal waves. Our cheeks grazed against one another as my eyes stared right up into his beautiful ones, dark brown surging deep into hazel, becoming completely one with it. His lips whispered against my own, hot breath paralysing my every senses.

"I told you not to sit on the ledge."

"What makes you think I will ever listen?"

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to lean forward and close the gap between us, to press our lips together and hold our breath forever. I wanted to kiss him so badly; I wanted to feel those lips again, to feel those hands running up and down my skin, to run my fingers through those beautiful dark strands, to taste the sweet, tantalizing flavour of his tongue all over again. I wanted to press myself against him, to fall into his arms, to have them wrap around me in a tight, never-ending net. I wanted him to touch me, to feel his fingers sending bolts of fire throughout my body, to feel his gentle touch gliding over my skin like a beautiful, pale tide. I wanted him to kiss me, to join us together, to become but one in the never-ending cycle of the world, forever lost in the whirl of our sweet, beautiful dreams.

I wanted him to love me.

I wanted to love him.

I _needed _to love him.

_I'm in love with William Turner._

…

_But he will never be mine._

Without a word, I pulled back, widening the gap between us as our lips parted away from the very possibility, the very idea altogether. Air filled my lungs again as I tore myself away from him, peeling me back as I took one firm step away, my boot hitting the floor with a loud, resounding _thud. _My heart screamed out in agony; before me, Will watched with large eyes, raw pain engulfing those deep brown pools. His jaw tightened with hard knots as his lips drew back in a straight line, every muscle in his face tight taut. Sharp, horrid pain flashed across his face; without a sound, he drew his hands away, pulling them off my waist and retreating them back to his side. Heat shifted away from me, like a blanket being torn off on a cold, snowy night; I wanted to sob, to cry at the lost of his presence, of his very heat. My heart squeezed the very breath out of me.

_I'm in love with William Turner._

_But he will never be mine._

Tears were beginning to edge at the corner of my eyes.

"I have to go," I managed to whisper out, swallowing back the sob as I tried to look Will right in the eye; he wasn't looking though. Instead, he studied the floor, jaw roiling as his dark eyes refused to meet mine. Fists clenched tightly at his side as veins bulged away at his temples:

Did he want me?

Did he yearn for me as I much as I yearned for him?

Did his heart screamed and weep, as much as mine did?

Did he love me?

_I'm in love with William Turner._

_But he will never be mine._

"Where?" His voice was as silent as mine, quiet in the rustling wind and churning voices. Footsteps vibrated against the sole of my boots, my hair twirling about behind me. My heart writhed and sobbed non-stop.

My insides burned as if they were on fire.

I just wanted to die.

"To Circe's."

_I'm in love with William Turner._

_But he will never be mine._

**Ta-da! End of Chapter 30!**

**I can't believe I only took a day to write this one! Then again, it is pretty short…**

**Anyway, I'm not so sure about this chapter but I hoped you guys enjoyed it! Will do my best to improve on the next chapters, to the very best of my abilities!**

**So, stay tuned for the next chapter 'cause I can ensure you, it's extremely informative. **_**Extremely…**_

**Thanks for all the reviews anyway! I really do love them and honestly, they are the fuel that keeps me writing this one. And my love for Will, of course! Thanks again, really, and please leave any reviews that you may have! I really do love them!**

**Anyway, bye for now!**

**XOXO**


	32. The Honouring of a Deal

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. Especially JOEY!**

**Before I begin, I just wanted to clear things up: **

**JOEY DOES NOT LOOK LIKE ELIZABETH.**

**I'm not sure if you guys got that from reading-though I really hoped you did- but I just want to say that Joey's physical attributes are much different from Elizabeth. Firstly, Joey is BLONDE…dark blonde but still blonde. She is also tall and curvaceous, with a womanly figure. This is completely unlike Elizabeth who is flat-chested, skinny and brown-haired-not offence to Keira Knightly, of course. They do not look alike…PERIOD.**

**Furthermore, I did base Joey's physical attributes on Emma Watson.**

**So yeah…not alike at all.**

**Secondly, let me just say that I am introducing an idea that is very complex and way-out. Please read carefully as this chapter is very important. However, please excuse me if its properly executed.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews guys! I'm completely psyched with the whole 50+ reviews over night! It's really awesome and I thank you guys so much, especially you Water vs. Fire!**

**Please enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 30: Honouring a deal**

Every time, every single time I closed my eyes, I saw it.

Flashes of the moment, quick zaps of images flying across my vision like a bolt of lightning splintering through the dark sky. Roaring blazes clouding over the darkness; the black fan of wet hair, the pale, slimy skin, the splatters of thick, red blood, the pure white bone piercing through rivers of red, the hollow, dead eyes spinning in orbs of cold, empty blue…

"Is that you, little one?" Circe's wondrous, odd voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness, like the falling of clear, spring water on sharp-edged rocks. My eyes snapped open with a start; with a quick, staggered breath, the world filled in front of me again, light returning to the corners of my vision. Walls, ceilings and floors edged its way over the darkness as the picture of my surroundings painted itself in again, the colours coming back to life. The wavering, fiery light of the lantern in my hand brought everything back to sense.

I really should stop closing my eyes.

With a soft clearing of my throat, I walked onward, letting the demure, soft glow of the lantern lead me on as my footsteps sounded hollowly in the quiet; in front of me, the _Flying Dutchman's _dungeon stretched on into the darkness, the flickering, gold gleam of my lamp but illuminating a few steps ahead of me with a shivery, yellow cast. Light bounced off nearly everything within a hand's breadth away-off to my right, near the outstretched hand that beheld the shaking lamp, was a thick black wall, solid and dark with the usual cretins crawling all about it in a sickening mess. Golden light shimmered against its icky, slimy surface-to the left, beside the other outstretched, laden hand, metal bars gleamed yellow as they stretched from the up at the ceiling to all the way down to my trudging, metal boots. Thick iron bars, slimy and green, marched along with me all the way into the abyss ahead of me, like good soldiers in straight formation off to my left. Algae and rust had mossed the gleaming bars to an awful shade of putrid bile-the world smelt of rusty metal, foul and unbecoming in the stuffy air. Glints of silver poked at my eyes.

What lay beyond those disgusting-coloured bars, beyond the cell doors was a mystery to me, as all there was was complete and utter darkness.

All except one, of course.

The world tasted like cold, dank metal

Without a word, I stopped in front of one of numerous cells, its metal bars screaming with the shades of shivering gold that peeled out of my lantern. Ragged, cold breath, slightly white in the awful moist air, heaved out from between my lips; without the slightest thought, I bent down towards the muddy wood boards and dropped the full plate off onto the floor, freeing my left hand altogether. Metal _clanged _against wood; with my other hand now free, I reached upward towards the lamp and unlatching the clasp with quick fingers, swung the glass pane of the lamp open. Shimmering gold reflected several times upon the dirty, smooth surface-with quick, clammy fingers, I reached deep into the bowels of the lamp and ignoring the leeching fire that toasted above the wobbly oil, withdrew the tiny catch from within. Blots of oil, hot as hell, fell down onto my fingers as I pulled away the torching catch and, without a word, reached upward towards the metal bars.

A quick, chilling moment passed before fire bloomed like a vibrant flower; above, the tendrils of dried cloth and straw that had been stuffed into an open holder hooked to the bars caught fire, springing the room with a soaring, orange light. Colour flooded back into the world as the light spread to all corners of the dark and dank dungeons, tingeing everything with a frail, goldish glow. My eyes screamed from the sudden brightness.

She was sitting right there.

Behind the yellow-washed metal bars right in front of me, in the small, clean cell, alone in the frigid, dank air was Circe; she was just sitting there, upright on the small cot at the far end of the cell. Curly black hair, as dark as never-ending midnight, streamed down her shoulders in trickling, gorgeous rivers of pure black, fraying about the faint blue of her long, silk dress. Her long, brown arms, smooth as ever, was folded pleasantly on her lap, the wavering, roaring fire above my head casting her in a shimmering glow of quiet gold. Red lips tilted upwards in a faint smile; above them, staring out of that beautiful, ethereal face were a pair of hard black eyes, cold and completely devoid of emotion and life.

Utterly dead.

I don't think I will ever get use to that.

_Why do all the women surrounding me have to be so strange?_

My throat was awkwardly parched.

"Who else could it be?" I answered her question from earlier as I sent the fiery catch back into the lamp, swinging the pane of glass shut with the back of my hand, "I mean, who else in the right mind would come down here alone? To visit _you_?" The demi-goddess just smiled from her post on the bed, her eternal, radiant face framed and separated by the metal bars. Golden light wavered and gleamed about her luscious curls.

Oooookkkkkkkk…

Without another word, I dragged the lamp down back to my side and with the stray fingers of the same hand, fished deep into my pocket; at the same time, my body lurched low as my left hand reached forward and picked up the plate again, setting it perfectly into my palm. Cold, horrid metal slide against my skin in both hands; from within pocket, I withdrew a large key, about the size of my palm.

It smelled rotten.

Without another pause, I juggled about the various things in my hand and opened the cell door, setting the key into the lock and cracking it with a loud, irksome groan. Metal screeched against metal as cage swung open, the door set into the bars flying backwards with an awful _squeal; _Circe just remained where she was, sitting on the bed and watching with that slight smile. The flickering glow of the fire over the newly opened door and the one from my lamp shivered about her like a shower of gold. Her eyes were granite stones.

As usual, she looked beautiful.

With the same-old creepy thing, of course.

_Here I am, walking into a metal death-trap with a crazy, off-her-head witch that can probably crack my skull apart with a single blow, not caring if she would-_

"Come on in, little one," Circe raised a delicate eyebrow as she watched me from her place, her hard eyes like holes into her head, "I won't bite."

"You sure about that?" I grumbled helplessly as I took my first step into Circe's good old cell; metal boots, heavy as usual, crunched against the straw-covered floor as I stepped underneath the berth, entering properly into the cell.

And most likely my death.

_Oh well._

Circe's cell was like any of the other cells that bordered it on either side; it was roughly 2 meters long, its wooden boards stretching onwards underneath a thin blanket of dirty, strewn hay. Muck and algae gathered at all the corners of the room, creeping through the golden-tinted wood boards like writhing, seeking insects. Like a normal prison cell, Circe's accommodation consisted of only one wall, the other three being but old, rusting metal bars stripping her of any sense of privacy. The only wall was pressed opposite the cell door, and opposite me-it was the same as the one directly opposite it, black and icky and full of all sort of unmentionables tinted gold in the fiery light. No windows adorned it, neither any sense of shelves or mirrors; instead, the small, thin cot, covered with a red blanket, had been hammered into the slimy, gruesome wall, held up at hip-level. Nothing else occupied the small space-off to my right, a small black bucket, grimed with barnacles and slime, served as Circe's only option of a toilet.

Everything smelled like rotten, decaying blood.

The fire crackled just behind my head.

My insides churned like a roiling storm.

In front of me, sitting in the cot in the shower of shimmering, faded gold, Circe's red lips moved again.

"Have you brought me dinner?" Her voice rang through the dark dungeons, crisp and ever so fresh like summer rain. Hard black eyes gleamed up at me without a single flicker; with a soft, almost inaudible gulp, I reached down and dropped my now useless lamp down onto the floor with a loud _thump. _Golden straw shifted beneath the loud slam as a bright halo formed around the circumference of the sitting lamp on the wood-it was still a little dark in the cell but not so much to the very extent that I needed the lamp anymore. The toasting fire above the metal opening would, after all, do just enough.

At least I hoped so.

The floor lurched about beneath my feet.

My stomach twisted and knotted.

I gulped.

Swallowing back some saliva, I pushed my left hand forward, wobbling and balancing the laden plate as it went.

"Yup," I crocked, offering the smirking witch a weak grin as the plate passed from my hand into her smooth, strong ones, "Here's dinner." Objects wobbled and shifted about on the metal plate; in the wavering, crackling light of the roaring fire, the small clumps of meat on the plate looked even more juicy, glinting with a faint, sweet gleam.

No aroma spiced away from them, though.

With a quick swipe, Circe grabbed the plate of meat away from my hand and brought it towards her face, her hands moving like a flash of gold-tinged brown. Black curls flailed about at her quick, unearthly action; without another word, Circe pulled the meat all the way up towards her, her sharp nose sniffing it periodically like some kind of dog. Black, black eyes focused entirely on the shocking chunks of gleaming meat.

I didn't know wherether to laugh or gulp.

Something bumped off to the right.

"What is this?" Circe looked up from the plate, luscious black curls framing her delicate face as a single eyebrow shot high above. Black eyes, like orbs of midnight, shone right out of her still face.

The smile had faded away.

_Great…_

"Fish," I offered as I slowly bent my knees, the long cuffs of my boots protesting against the cloth as I began my descent down to the ground, "I thought you would like your first taste of seafood."

Under Circe's still, emotionless gaze, I plopped my butt down to the straw-covered ground, drawing my knees all the way up under my chin. Dark blonde curls, gold in the faint, flickering light, shivered against my bare shoulders as I sat down on the floor, the pale halo of light from the lamp just touching my thigh. Fingers knitted around my drawn-up legs.

The back of my neck shivered.

In front of me, Circe's red lips had dropped all pretence of a smile, her blue dress rustling against the soft fabric of the red sheet.

"Fish?"

"Yup. Fish."

"I thought I asked for my regular meals, little one," Circe's red lips bent into a tiny frown as the wrinkles slowly etched its way through her face, her dark hair shivering against her broad, firm shoulders, "I thought I specifically said-"

"Well, I'm sorry Circe," I helplessly sighed as I did my very best to ignore the slight frown on Circe's red, red lips, clenching my hands tightly together, "We're fresh out of human." My knees pressed against the edge of my chin as I said so; there was a chill in the air, a horrid, creeping chill that seem to sink deep into my bones and clutching them with cold, relentless hands. A terrible, aching chill that screamed through the dark, looming cells on either side; my lungs were tightening, squeezing beneath my chest as my heart clenched.

The metallic smell, the horrid metallic smell had crept all the way to the back of my throat.

My lips shivered.

In front of me, looming quietly in the flickering golden shower of light, Circe's down-turned lips quirked slightly.

"Truly? Fresh out of mortals? Why, I can hear the lot of you banging about above my head, all day long! You can't tell me-"

"Well, I tried, alright Circe? I tried and I fought-"

"Not enough, apparently."

"Are you kidding me? I _fought _to get some human for you-hell, I even tried to cut off Sparrow's arm, and I would have been successful if Will hadn't come all parental on me!"

On the bed, limed against the black wall and beneath the wavering curtain of gold and orange, Circe's frowning lips slowly twitched, the lines curving up towards her eyes. Dark black stones, set above her glistening high cheekbones, flickered with a quick, unbidden _snap, _as the lines in her smooth, beautiful face slowly began to disappear into the chocolate river of her skin. The plate moved languidly down to her demure, blue-covered lap.

A flash of bright silver, a wink of metal, twinkled within her stone-cold eyes.

She was smiling again.

With a quirk of her grinning lips, Circe spoke again, her voice like a dancing fey in the midnight forest.

"You're joking," she declared, the strange glow returning back into her glorious, ethereal face. Bright white teeth, like gleaming pearls, winked from behind her crimson lips.

She was beautiful, you know.

Especially when she smiled.

Tightening my embrace of my legs towards my chest, I nodded sullenly, face calm.

"Yes, I am joking…. I tried to cut of Sparrow's _balls._"

Circe just smiled at me in return.

For a few long moments, Circe and I held our silence, sitting quietly in each other's company; on either side of me, the looming dark cells shimmered and flickered with the glow of the roaring fire, the metal bars reflecting numerous shades of pale silver. Everything smelled cold and clammy; for a moment, for a spilt moment, it felt as if I was being watched, as if some invisible predator was watching me from the deep, black depths of the shouldering cells. Tiny hairs pricked at the back of my neck as the short moment overwhelmed me, driving my heart into overdrive like a charging bull slamming into my body. My tongue went dry as my mind stopped thinking altogether; for a moment, it was as I was being watched by the darkness themselves…

_Which is kind of dumb, seeing as I'm stuck in a cell with the scariest shit of a predator I will ever meet…_

Circe was already eating.

For a moment, all was quiet.

" This is wrong," I finally spoke, breaking through the silence as I bit down on every word. Hot air, chilled by the dank, metallic air, hissed out from between my lips; in front of me, sitting on the cot and munching on a crumble of fish between her fingers, Circe raised her hard eyes with a gentle quiver of her curls.

"What is?"

"You…being in here…caged away like a prisoner or something…"

"I find it quite comfortable actually," was Circe's only reply as she looked at me-about a meter away, the shimmering glow of the fire on the metal bars danced upon her dark face as she slowly licked up the fish from her fingers, taking her time to empty the plate of food. Her voice rang through the air like the chiming of bells; for a demy-goddess, whose sanity was often brought into question, Circe ate like a proper lady, back rigid and lips always clean. A rat scuttled about off to the cell on the right.

"Comfortable?" I raised an eyebrow as my hands tightened their embrace over my folded-up legs, "Circe, you're in a _cell. _I…when I said, that I would free you, I didn't think-"

"Don't be silly, little one. Of course you freed me. Without your help, I would still be trapped there, on that island. Those sirens would still be-"

"Well, they _are _still after us…"

"That isn't the point," a deep sigh slithered out of Circe's perfectly defined lips, her coal eyes focused entirely on me as fingers reached down to grab another morsel of fish from the plate, "The point is, little Joey…. you saved me. And for that, I am ever more grateful."

"But you're down _here_…god, Circe! You can't tell me that you can stand being locked down here like some animal, all alone in the dark-"

"If you recall carefully, little one, I have lived the past 20 years of life in complete isolation, all alone. I haven't met, seen nor talk to anyone in so long…. no. No, this is best solution…for me, for you…for everyone."

I wasn't satisfied.

Frowning down against my lap and pulling my boot-covered calves even closer towards me, I managed a slight grumble.

"It's still wrong…"

"You can't write all the wrongs in the world, little Joey."

"I can try."

Circe only chuckled in reply.

Silence soared through the room again; opposite me, Circe ate her fish in silence, licking her sleek brown fingers of the tasty, mouth-watering juices with a strange, almost unearthly delicacy. Her bare feet were planted firmly down on the straw-covered ground.

A chill was ripping through my body.

A part of me wanted to puke.

No matter what Circe said, my opinion stood; this was _wrong. _This was completely and utterly wrong-putting a person down here, in the dark bowels of the ghost ship, away from everyone else….

I had to talk to Will about this.

That is, if I can face him ever again.

_Why does God hate me?_

With a soft clearing of my throat, I broke through the chilling, horrid silence.

"Do you think the sirens are still after us?"

From her perch on the red-covered cot, Circe raised her dark head, shivering her curls as those terrible black eyes focused their attention on me all over again.

My insides lurched.

"Most definitely…." Her voice slithered through the air in its odd chime again, piercing through the cold as her black coal eyes slowly narrowed down into tiny slits, "Why? Are you worried?"

"Worried?" I looked up from my lap, tangling my fingers together on my shins as my body crunched up even more, "Worried…of course I'm worried! They're _sirens_, Circe-"

"True, but you handled them easily before. Surely, if you can kill one of those blasted creatures, you can kill the rest of them."

"Kill?" I scrunched up my brow as my own brown eyes melded perfectly with Circe' cold, unyielding ones, my fingers tightening to cords above my knees "_Kill_? You think I _killed her_?"

"Didn't you?"

"No…Not unless me swinging about a sword like a crazing lunatic, with no sense whatsoever is called killing instead of its proper word of accidental dea-"

"Don't be humble, little one," Circe' perfectly lined eyebrow shot high up her head as she gazed down at me, her red lips pursing as her fire-licked fingers held up a bit of fish near her chest, "I saw what you did. Little Scarlett saw…it was no accident. You did kill-"

"No, I didn't."

"Then, what would you have called it?"

"I don't know," I shrugged helplessly as I studied the floor beneath me, eyes roving over the gold-tinted hay strewn all over, "I…I don't know what to call it, to name what happened-"

"A good kill."

"_Noooooo_…I told you, I didn't kill that siren. I _didn't_…I mean, if I had, it wouldn't have been so….so…."

"So what?"

_Easy_, the word resounded throughout my head, like a calling echo over turning cliffs and plunging canyons, _so easy._ It was like a catcall in the wind; for a moment, a shudder rippled through my body as the thought ricocheted all about my head in a never-ending cycle, brushing and whispering against the edges of my subconsiousness. My stomach flipped with unease as my fingers gripped one another with vicious strength-it was true. It _had _been easy. So easy.

Too easy.

After all, I must have fought off those sirens with my blade for what, 5 minutes? 10 minutes?

I mean, I had no experience with a blade, utterly none safe the time I took a swing with Bootstrap; besides that, though, I knew nothing about sword fighting.

Yet, somehow, I had single-handily outwitted the sirens and killed one of them with a perfectly aimed shot to the neck.

_When I can't even walk straight without tripping over my own feet._

Something's so screwed up with the world.

For a moment, we both kept our silence, my eyes studying the fine lines on my fire-licked hands while Circe slowly consumed her dinner. Above our heads, beyond the dancing flame and leaping shadows, a single pair of footsteps creaked against the wood boards-we were far below deck, beneath the crushing waters and all the pirates, so far below that the ceiling above us served as the floor for the storage room that one rarely visited. So far below that the world barely rocked, the entire dungeons submerged beneath the tumbling white-capped waves and in the dark, dark waters. So far below that if Circe was to jump forward and break my neck, letting a scream slip past my lips, no one would ever hear me.

Absolutely no one.

_Great._

My throat was as dry as hell.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

My thoughts wouldn't shut up.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Circe spoke again.

"I suppose you came down to square our agreement," She said simply enough, licking the last of the fish off her perfect, clever fingers, "As promised?" The shower of flickering firelight shimmered about her luscious, enthralling curls.

I blinked.

"Well…no," I shook my head, blinking out of the daydream as my brow furrowed into several creases above my eyes, "I…I didn't…I didn't think…Agreement?"

"Yes...about Balder. Remember?"

With a sigh, I nodded my chin against the tip of my knees, my eyes blinking slowly with weariness; yes. Yes, I remembered Balder.

The great mystery about his identity, anyway, and the deal I made with Circe to get it.

_Man, the things I do…_

With a helpless yawn, I raised my eyes from my hands and up towards Circe, gazing up at her regal form without a single thought.

Something shivered deep within me.

The sword suddenly felt heavy at my side.

"I remember."

"What do you want to know then?"

A part of me felt like reaching down to my side and gripping the gold hilt.

"Oh, I don't know Circe!" I rolled my eyes yet again, riching each of my word with pure sarcasm, "How about everything? I mean, seeing as I know _absolutely nothing_ about Mr. Mysterious!"

"Your sarcasm is unparalleled, little one."

"Circe…."

"Very well," She nodded her head as she set down the clean plate off to the right of her lap, the metal sinking slowly into the red fabric as her hands folded over one another, "Where do you want to start from?"

"The beginning."

**88888888888888888**

"I know this is hard to understand, and it may contradict everything you hold true but little one, listen close, for I speak no lie."

"Alright. Carry on."

Hard, black eyes met brown ones.

"In the beginning, there was the Void."

"The Void?"

"Yes. The Void-it was a black hole, an empty, soulless black hole that made up the very existence of everything, of the universe. Nothing exist, absolutely nothing safe the Void and its eternal night. It is a force made of itself alone, and not composed of anything else. It exists from the beginning of the universe and till the end of times."

"This sounds strangely like the Greek myths-"

"Just listen, little one."

"Fine."

"Well, no one knows how. No one knows why, only one day, the Void opened and out of its black, lifeless chasm flew out the Gods themselves. Every single one of them was birthed by the Void; they came out in all of their glory, perfect and in all ways as they are now."

"Wait, wait…so…you're saying that the God's just…_was_?"

"Exactly."

A sigh rumbled through my body as a hand reached up to pat at the red bandana. Weariness was beginning to sink into my cold, chilled bones.

"Fine…just…just carry on…"

"Very well…as I was saying, the Gods were born on that day, right out of the Void. They were completely alien to the darkness-"

"Then what?"

"Well, they set about creating us."

"Us?"

"The world, little one. The sky, the earth, the sun and the moon. The sea, the rivers and the mountains. The trees, the animals and the humans….once born, the Gods set about creating the world, moulding it into what it is now."

"Why?"

"I do no know, little one…what you must know is that there are many secrets about the Gods, secrets that are never shared by them, secrets such as how they existed and why they created us."

"But…but you're a demi-god. You're mother is a _goddess._ I mean, shouldn't you know? These _secrets_?"

"Like I said, the Gods do not share their secrets."

A rat fight erupted over at the other cell, filling the dank dungeons with a rumble of noisy squeals and chatters.

Circe was emotionless.

Taking in a deep breath of the horrid, metallic air, I spoke again.

"Alright…please…carry on."

"Very well….now where was I? Hmm….ah! Yes! Now I remember-the Gods created the world, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Yes…well, the Gods did create the universe to the very best of their abilities; it was Gaia who created the earth, the soil beneath our feet; Neuth became the sky and the stars above; Calyspo, my mother, forged the sea from her own wake; Hel reigns over the dark abyss of the Underworld; Arian drew the face of pale, still moon; Ra'al gleamed as the sun high above in Neuth's arms; Vulcan birthed fire, roaring and perfect; Balder sprung the never-ending light into existence, wiping out the Void-"

As Circe spoke on, citing out the names of the Gods from the top of her head, my mind just numbed away; I knew those names, from somewhere, sometime far back in the crevices in my memory. A distant memory poking at my sides, a familiar word rolling over my tongue; but I _definitely _knew them. I remembered them from somewhere, from a place far, far away…

_Why am I forgetting things?_

"How do you know this?" I mumbled helpless into my lap, tangling my fingers into a tight web. In front of me, Circe raised a single, perfect eyebrow, making her elegant face look more angular.

"Like I said, little one, my mother told me many things. I am her daughter, after all, despite the fact she locked me up in the end; when I was growing up on Aygia, my mother often spend the nights-"

"Agyia? What the hell is that?"

"Are you going to keep asking me these irrelevant, nonsensical questions or are you going to listen to me quietly?"

"But-"

"Joey…"

"Fine."

"Very well, where were we?"

"You were telling me about Aygia."

"No, no…about Balder...What was I saying about Balder and the Gods?"

"I…. I don't know."

Opposite me, Circe breathed out a deep sigh, letting the cool air rush out from between her ruby red lips as a curl fluffed out into the air. Her coal black eyes, like pure, polished stone, fluttered halfway as the sigh raked through her body like a rushing, gushing tide. Her firm shoulders drooped slightly down towards her lap.

It was as if I was swallowing bitter, horrid metal.

A chill ran through my folded body.

I gulped.

"Sometimes, little Joey, I think you purposely act silly."

"I do what I can, doll."

For a moment, neither of us spoke as Circe pulled her leeching, black eyes away from me, down into her folded, brown hands. Her black eyelashes quivered gently against her high, glazed cheekbones.

Then, through the fog of metallic cold, I voiced out, pressing my lips against the hard knobs of my knees.

"Did the Gods create us, Circe? Did they create humans?"

"Of course they did," Circe spoke as calmly as ever, her voice ringing through the air as if someone had _pinged _hard against the metal bars that surrounded us, "Who else were there, little one, but the Gods? No one existed that could have created you mortals."

"But…how? No offence, Circe, but Adam and Eve was pretty much the story I was slammed with throughout all of church-"

"My mother used to tell me, little one, that when all of the world was created, the stars and seas in their rightful place, the Gods then decided to bloom life into the wor-"

"Why?"

"Don't ask, questions, young Joey. Just listen."

"Fine…go on…"

"Well, as I was saying little one, the Gods decided to bring life into the world-why, no one really knows, safe the Gods themselves."

She looked at me, as if waiting for me to interrupt or ask something again. When I didn't, her blood red lips cocked upwards just by the slightest.

"It was Gaia who gave herself to the mortals; using her purest mud, the body of Gaia, the Gods fashioned the humans, in every shape, colour and size-"

"In their image?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Gods…well, the bible says…do the Gods look like us?"

"My dear little one, I am the daughter of a God…. look at me. Do I _look_ different then any other mortal to you?"

I only quirked an eyebrow in reply; sure, behind the shimmering curtain of flickering shadows, Circe looked like any other beautiful woman of this century. What, with the decent blue dress and the luscious curls and those pure red lips….

And then you see her eyes.

Those horrid, black eyes.

_And you know, she ain't right._

Not to mention her voice, of course.

The rat fight was still going on.

"Well…"

"Yes, Joey. The Gods made us in the likeness of them…of course, all the animals and creatures of this world they created too, with whatever means though is unknown. Mortals are special, either way. They were made to be different."

"Yup. We're the main course."

"Don't start, little one... now where was I…. Ah! The Gods, right! Now, you see-"

"Look Circe," I breathed out another sigh as my thighs pressed against my chest, my arms binding them close, "As much as I would _loooove_ to hear this story about fictional gods and mud-humans-"

"You want to skip right ahead to Balder?"

"Either you're smart or you can read my mind….I'm going with the last one."

Opposite me, up on the cot, Circe just sighed out in reply. Coal black eyes flew down to her lap; for a moment, we just kept our silence, letting the squabble of the rat-fight resound throughout the dungeons in eerie, bone-chilling echoes. My heart beat like drums within my chest.

A whisper chilled the air.

Finally, Circe spoke again, raising her black orbs of eyes towards me again, pale fires flickering in the deep, never-ending pools. Her lips barely moved as her voice slithered through the ice.

"Little one, you must understand that though the Gods are ever powerful, with powers mortal will never know of, they had their faults as well."

"I would have never have guessed."

"Listen…like humans, like you, the Gods had imperfections. Errors and weaknesses that they themselves could hardly see-"

"Like your mother?"

"Joey-"

"Where are you going with this, Circe?"

"If you let me finish," She trailed slightly, narrowing her dark, forbidding eyes at me, "I will explain it…you see, little Joey, the Gods are flawed. Almost like their creation, the humans, for they felt pain, and anger, and betrayal, and envy and every horrid emotion you mortals feel. For, after all, you were all made in their image, their very-"

"What does this have to do with Balder?"

"Everything," Circe's eyes widened to her normal size as those cold, soulless orbs stared down at me without a single flicker of emotion, "Don't you see, little Joey? It was Balder who was different. It was him who was _perfect._"

For a moment, the words hung between us, our eyes meeting across the cell without a sound. Horrid squealing and screeching filled the dank air as the words, the voices vanished into the icy atmosphere, the fire at the metal bars behind me crackling softly against the black walls. My toes curled away inside my metal boots, my fingers kneading slowly. My chest heaved.

No one spoke a word.

_What?_

"What?" I repeated out loud, hiding half my face behind my knees as my eyes gazed up at Circe quietly. The bandana itched at my head.

Opposite me, Circe seemed like a perfect, faceless statue of stone.

"Balder, little Joey," She said quietly, her odd, tinkling voice reaching high above the squabbling of the rats next door as her eyes widened ever so slightly, "Balder, the God of light and joy and beauty and all that is great in this world. The finest, the most beautiful and grandest of the Gods; he was the youngest to be born but it was he, Great Balder, who smite the black Void and brought light into the universe. It was he who vanquished the darkness, he who birthed beauty in existence, he who made all that is wonderful and great. He was Balder, the greatest god of all."

There was something in her voice, something so strange, something odder then usual. Her eyes, black, soulless eyes flickered with a strange, cold flame; a chill swept through me as she spoke in her odd, magical voice, a shudder creeping up my spine. My breath caught in my lungs; a part of me, a small, tiny part of me wanted to cuddle close to someone, to feel some body heat as Circe told the strange, thrilling tale. A small part of me wanted someone beside me.

But there was no one.

No one at all.

_Balder._

Circe spoke again.

"He was magnificent," she raised her eyes away from me, the burning coals refocusing just above my head, "He was truly magnificent; I never met him, but the stories the mermaids and dryads would tell me, the amazing adventures…"

"What stories?"

"Stories of heroic battles, of majestic slayings of evil beasts from the murky depths-"

"This is so Greek-"

"This isn't some silly story you mortals have come up with," Circe's voice snapped hard through the hard, like a cold, stinging slap as her gaze fell down towards me again, "This isn't some legend that your miserable forefathers invented to entertain themselves; this is _history_, child. Pure, untainted history-"

"I find that hard to believe."

"That's because you are silly. The truth, the real truth, could be staring you right in the face but you will insist on being blind to it, no mat-"

"What truth? You're telling me a bed time story and you expect me to be-"

"We made a deal," Circe's voice rose slightly as she leaned forward, her hard, merciless eyes digging deep through bone and flesh as she glared down at me, her red lips slightly sneered, "You freed me from that island and I promised to tell you the truth about Balder, about everything. We made a deal. And I'm _honouring_this deal."

"By telling me a farce?"

"I speak the _truth_, little one. Balder and Gods…they all exist. They are real."

For a moment, I was quiet, holding my thoughts as Circe studied me from her royal red perch. The rat fight was finally lulling off to the side, letting the eerie, cold silence drop over all of us again. My heat trembled.

This surely isn't real.

This story, this legend…it can't be real.

_Or is it?_

Finally, I spoke again.

"What happened to Balder?"

I was hugging my legs more tightly then before.

Speaking again, Circe inclined her head in a regal fashion.

"Well…Balder was perfect. Great. Beautiful. Many worshipped him, many-"

"Who? Who worshipped him?"

"People, little one," Circe drew in a breath as she met my eyes without a single flicker or waver, "People worshipped him, and the other Gods too, of course. Worshipped and revered; the young world honoured the Gods in their own right, sacrificing to them and offering their strength to the immortals. They were called by different names around the world, but they were still the s-"

"Like what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What different names? What different names were the Gods called?"

Circe raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Many names-they were the same Gods, but the different people around the world, the different civilizations gave them their own names. Some civilizations got them right; others did not."

"I don't under-"

"For example, little one, the Nordic people in the north got Balder's name right. Not his story, but his name. The Greeks and Romans didn't though; they knew not the great God's name, thus they named him Apollo and built temples in his honour. Balder, of course, was more then willing to look past the mistake of his-"

"I'm confused."

With a sigh, Circe shrugged in defeat; I mimicked her helplessly. It was hopeless; nothing made sense, not the Gods, not Balder, not the worshipping…NOTHING! It was as if a giant puzzle was being slapped across my face, a confusing, hopeless puzzle I could barely comprehend. It was just too much information, too much knowledge…

Apollo.

The Greek and Roman God of light, innocence and truth.

_At least I got that part._

_Which, apparently, happens to be another name for Balder._

_Which means that Apollo is Balder._

_Which means I'm going nuts._

I hit my head against my knobby knees.

At the cot, Circe breathed out a deep, yielding sigh.

"I…I understand it's hard to comprehend. It's hard to fully take in; but I need you to, little one. I need you to understand you're situation, with Balder and the sword-"

"Just…just tell me about Balder, Circe. Just Balder. _Please._"

Water dripped somewhere, like loud pings in the cold, writhing blackness.

A knot formed in my throat as thoughts whirled about my head in a never-ending battle.

My heart lurched.

"Balder died."

My heart stopped completely.

For a moment, I didn't say a word as I stared down into the darkness of my lap, taking in the warmth of my body, lapping it up. My arms held on tightly; without a word, I raised my head, quivering my lips as my eyes came to set upon Circe's unearthly, cold face. A part of me trembled inside:

Dead?

_Dead?_

"I don't-"

A loud, awful shuffling filled the air, cutting me off in mid-sentence. Pulling my arms back and swivelling around, I turned towards the door in the cold, horrid metal bars; there, striding through the darkness with one oil lamp and heavy, dragging feet were two pirates, their faces hidden within the folds of darkness. Loud, rasping breath filled the clammy air as they huffed and puffed forward, like a couple of ghouls shuffling about in the dark. Something bright glinted in their arms; dragged between them, trailing far back, was a long line of rusting metal chains, scraping against the floorboards in a dreadful moan. Fearful, glinting eyes gleamed out of the darkness.

Metal built up in the back of my throat.

_This can't be good_.

For a moment, no one said a word as the two pirates paused right in front of the door, standing in the gap between all those metal bars. Their eyes moved frantically about in the suffocating, smothering darkness.

I bit my tongue.

"De Cap'tain's callin'."

**TA-DA! END OF CHAPTER!  
**

**This chapter was probably confusing…well, I kind of wanted it that way. I'm sorry about that, but I didn't want to load out so much on you guys. The information here….please send me a review if this chapter was too much, too boring or if it was ok. **

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews and please review on this one; I need your help in deciding on the flow of the plot! Please leave any comments, and I will surely look into them! Thanks so much and until next time!**

**X0X0**


	33. Manaclebearing compass

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**The last chapter was a little confusing, I know. But no fear! I'll soon explain…in due time…**

**I want to thank all of you for all those reviews! They really are encouraging and besides a writer's drive to weave a tale, your reviews are the ones that really keep me going. Thanks so much! XD**

**Anyway, please enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 33: Manacle-bearing compass**

_Gods._

Even as I was marching across the shadowy, cold deck of the Flying Dutchman, my fist clenched at the sides and my feet thundering against the slimy, green planks, my thoughts kept tumbling about that singular word, running over my tongue in a never-ending cycle. My head churned and grumbled with the very thought; it wouldn't go away, no matter my racing emotions, no matter my rushing actions. It just kept lingering about in my mind, a teasing whisper poking at my sides like sharp, blood-tipped daggers.

A teasing whisper that just wouldn't leave me be.

_Gods._

_A mystery, that apparently, is real._

_And a dead Balder, of course._

Wood screamed and groaned beneath my striding feet.

My heart panged.

"WILLIAM TURNER!" I practically screamed as I stormed into the room, slamming the wooden door back against the hard, slimy wall. The world trembled with a loud, resounding _thud_ as my footsteps charged down into the lighted room; behind the table, framed from behind by the leaping, torching fireplace in his high-backed chair was Will, his loose dark curls springing along in a tumble of luscious brown as he snapped up his head in surprise. His eyes widened in alarm; around the room, in the corners and along the walls, the rest of our little party raised their heads to me as well, stopping their conversations mid-way as my scream reverberated throughout the enclosed office. Eyes locked entirely on me- Jared and Scarlett were there, standing near the draped window as their bodies faced each other, their faces turned towards me with outright alarm; Barbossa was standing beside Will at the table, his shaggy brown beard stirring at his sudden movement; Bootstrap stood at Will's other side, his dark-clad, hunched body leaned slightly over the large, oak table, his dead, black eyes watching me intensely; Lestrade was there too, standing near the closed door to Will's room with folded arms and straight shoulders, his eyes snapping around to me with speed I had not known he was capable of; and of course, Sparrow was there, half-sitting casually on the front of Will's table, his taunting dark eyes watching me with no measure or sign of surprise, his thin lips curled away in a small smile.

Amused, as usual.

Silence flooded the room like an engulfing tide as everyone kept their hold on me, their eyes watching me with downright surprise.

Behind me, the shuffling and clanging of chains paused.

My blood rushed.

_Oh, I was mad._

_Oh so ever mad._

In front of me, among the midst of the other pirates, Will raised a single eyebrow, his eyes still wide.

"I don't see what's-"

"What's wrong?" I screamed again, flinging my hands as the fire surged through my veins, through my stinging body, "WHAT'S WRONG? YOU'RE A MONSTER, THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG!"

"Joey, aren't you being a lit-"

"Shut up, Jared! I'm just speaking my mind!"

"Yeah, but you're not speaking. You're screaming as if some-"

"What exactly have I done now, Joey?" Will's voice broke through Jared's as he leaned forward in his seat, his bandana-held hair bobbing up and down on his white shoulders as his eyes slowly shrank back down to their normal size. Weariness was etched in both his voice and features; with a loud sigh, he reached forward and draped his lean arms down over the wooden table, amidst the pile of books and above the nailed map. To either side of him, Barbossa and Bootstrap kept their silence, the latter thin white lips quirking upwards in a slight sneer. Sparrow was still smirking.

The fire made Will's loose curls seem like bouncing, dancing gold.

Lestrade stood like a perfect, sculpted statue.

Behind me, Circe shuffled slightly, dragging the cold chains against the wood boards with a loud _scrape._

A stiff wind flowed in from the open door.

My insides burned.

_He has got to be kidding me! After everything, _everything_ he's done to me….how dare he ask me that question? He knows exactly what he's done, what he's doing! How dare he even-_

"You're inhumane!" I spat venom into my words as I took a step forward, my finger stabbing in his direction as my eyes threatened to bulge out of my head, "Completely inhumane-first, you locked her away beneath us all, in that _horrid_ place like she was some kind of murderer or lunatic! You locked her up in a cell! A FREAKING CELL!"

"Well, I already told-"

"But that wasn't enough…nooooo! Instead of being civil, of being _humane_, you had her chained-"

"Let me explain, Jo-"

"YOU HAD HER CHAINED UP IN MANACLES! MANACLES, YOU BASTARD! MANACLES! WHAT KIND OF FUCKING MONS-"

"I'm sorry," Will bit down fierily on his teeth as he glared at me over the large table, his beautiful dark eyes narrowing into tiny slits in his handsome, hardening face, "I'm sorry, but what gives _you _the right to challenge my authority on this ship? What gives _you _the right to insult me in such a way?" A vein bulged at his temple; as he spoke out the words, running each syllable with his thick English accent, Captain William Turner seem to sink deeper and deeper into rage, his jaw stiffening as his fists balled up at the desk. A deep red seemed to slow wash over his fine, perfectly sculpted features.

His golden curls quivered in the flickering glow of the roaring fire behind him.

_Good._

_Now he was mad too._

Off Will's right, my left, Bootstrap leaned forward and clasped a strong hand over his son's shoulder, his pale white skin blending almost perfectly into Will's snow white loose shirt.

Sparrow kept his leering smirk.

Jared groaned audibly.

I tasted blood.

With a loud swear, I dropped my finger back down to my side, my jaw clenching hard against my skin. The small of my back trembled; fire surged through me as I snapped open my mouth again, my throat screaming as the words flew out of my mouth.

"YOU'RE TREATING HER LIKE AN ANIMAL!"

"No," Will's glinted a cold fire as his jawbone hardened like a tightly wounded up rubber band, "No. I'm treating her the way any good Captain would-in order to protect my crew, I must-"

"So locking her up and chaining her like some damned murderer-"

"I will _not_ have my men and all the other pirates terrorized by the fact that Circe is on board!" he snapped, leaning forward even more and pulling out of his father's grip as the purple vein blossomed over his left temple, " I will _not_ have their work become less efficient, their concentration gone just because they are frightened out of their wits by a threat I'm not even convinced-"

"What the-all they do is mop the floors, pulls the sails and run around like headless, good-for-nothing chickens, anyway! Circe or not-"

"I WILL NOT HAVE THEM DISTRACTED BY FEAR, JOEY!"

"Irrational fear!"

"Irrational? IRRATIONAL? She's a witch, Joey! A witch who eats people-"

"Innocent until proven guilty-"

"She's a danger to everyone on board; I mean, you've heard the stories about-"

"Innocent until proven guil-"

"I will not have a menace walking about _my _ship, scaring all the men-"

"Then, why don't you locked me down there as well?" I emptied out my lungs my fiery, bulging eyes met Will's own fire-tainted ones behind the desk, my heart racing and my body screaming as the rage consumed me completely, "The men are scared of me too-you might as well save them from fear by locking me away as well!"

"Don't be draft. They don't-"

"Shut up, Will. Alright? I'm not dumb-I 've seen the looks they've given me! I've seen the stares, heard the whispers-god damn it, no one, _no one_ has talked to me ever since I sliced that sirens two days ago! No one has bothered to talk to me at all, to look me in the eye-Al'ad ran off earlier today, when I tried to ask him what was for dinner! Al'ad! Of all pe-"

"Don't be stupid-they're just in awe of you or something, Joey. Not-"

"Right….Lestrade refusing to talk to me is because he's in awe of my awesomeness…and not because he's afraid of me!

"Well, de Miz Wolfe has a point, Cap'tain…"

"Be quiet, Lestrade-"

"Admit it, Will. The men are just as scared of me as they are scared of Circe! They are _frightened _of me-"

"I bet that just amuses you…."

"If I scare the crew, then I deserve to be locked away too, no? I should have some of those chains-"

"The men only fear you because you slayed a siren, Joey…trust me. It won't be long before they all realise that your killing was a thing of luck, and not an example of supernatural abilities-"

"HEY! I killed that siren on my own, alright? Not because I was lucky, but because I…I freaking killed it with my own-"

"Enough, little one," Circe's smooth voice cut through my screaming, uncontrollable voice like a sword piercing a swift river, her tone soft like the gentle trickling a clear spring, "Enough rage." Metal scraped against wood; with a quick snap, I swivelled my head around, away from Will, away from the anger and yelling, away from everyone.

My heart thudded like a beating drum.

Standing in the arch of the doorway, half in shadow and half in the flickering glow of the roaring fire, was Circe, her dark hair and dark skin dancing with the golden, wispy light. Cold, black eyes gleamed out of the wavering, shivering darkness as her red lips blended into the liquid night; against the cerulean silk and around the witch's delicate wrists were a pair of iron manacles. Cold, horrid manacles; they were thick, as wide and chunky around as my palm, tumbling down towards the wooden ground in giant, grey loops. Tiny dots of red, from the coat of rust on the long chains, flecked about the witch's skin as the icy metal bit down around her wrists, holding her hands in front of her, as if in surrender. Long rings descended all the way down; at the bottom, beneath the hem of her plain silk dress, the chains had trapped her ankles too, holding her at her feet with circlets of metal identical to the ones around her wrists. Her legs and wrists were linked in a torrid of metal chains; the low, horrid sound of metal dragging against wood rang through the air as the chains trembled slightly in the darkness, like low, deep _dings._ Her breath was smooth and calm.

Just the sight of her…

Of the chains, and the manacles….

_It made my blood boil._

"Circe," Will's voice sounded behind me, reverberating throughout the room with a slight echo. Turning half-way around, I looked through the corner of my eyes; Will was rising up from his chair, his arms drawing back as the rest of the room focused their eyes on the witch behind me. His eyes were wide all over again; for a moment, no one said a word as everyone just stared at Circe, their breaths cut short as the room grew absolutely still. Nobody made a sound as silence pounded against the walls; for a moment, my heart stopped along with everyone else.

Just for a moment.

And then, I was screaming again.

"Not enough," I half-growled as I folded my hands tightly over my chest, scowling directly at Circe as she just stood there, beneath the arch of the door, calm as the rolling tide, "Not enough-I'm not done telling him off yet!"

"Yes, you are," the demi-goddess answered me simply as her cold black eyes focused themselves on me, her red lips curled away into something of a shadowy smile, "You've said all that you've wanted-"

"Not really-"

"Hush, child," her voice trickled through the air as a small smile quirked her lips, her dark eyes flashing as the chains shifted in the soft, kissing wind, "Hush now."

With that, Circe moved; with a smooth, liquid glide, frenched with the horrid lamenting of clanging, dragging chains, the ageless demi-goddess walked through the doorway, her dark curls trickling across her shoulders like flowing streams of pure black. Light wavered over her features as she moved forward; without a word and with the low dragging of heavy chains, she took her place beside me, her crimson lips snaking. Her black eyes danced quietly.

I moved along with her, turning myself as she slowly moved beside me.

The chains dragged against the wood boards in loud, horrid screams.

_Why the hell was she amused?_

In front of the toasting fire and behind the wide, clean desk, Will was already standing.

"Good evening, Circe," he spoke calmly, pulling to his full height in between the solemn Barbossa and Bootstrap. His tough jawbone hardened as dark brown eyes focused entirely on her; in front of him, half-sitting on the table, Sparrow watched with humour still dancing in his eyes, his lips still quirked in a gentle smile.

His eyes wouldn't meet Circe's.

Everyone was still silent.3

A part of me still boiled.

"Hey! I'm not done-"

"Good evening, Captain," Circe's smooth voice sang as she stopped me in mid-sentence; with a rough, strong hand, she reached down and clamped a hand over my lips, shutting me off as her skin clashed fiercely against my own. Her shadow darkened over me; for the first time, I couldn't help but notice that Circe was just my height, her thick head of hair just half an inch above my own. My eyes widened helplessly as the words collapsed against her hand, rendering me speechless. Jared snickered at the corner.

_She was awfully strong…_

It was hopeless struggling against her grip, fighting to speak beneath the iron bind of her single hand.

Sparrow was finding it quite amusing.

As I continued my fight against Circe's hand, prying at her steel hand with harsh fingers, the demi-goddess just remained still, her dark eyes completely ignoring me. Her high cheekbones danced with the leaping, gentle firelight.

"I see you are in good health, Captain," Circe's smooth, enchanting voice trickled through the air as she stood absolutely still, her grip unbreakable as my hands flew up to the hard gag over my lips, "I trust you are fairing well?" Her skin was cold against my lips, her voice completely calm; opposite us, standing against the fire and his high-backed chair, Will's dark eyes widened even more, his lips parting slightly.

Barbossa cleared his throat with a cold, wet sound.

Lestrade audibly gulped.

_How strange was it, when someone we expect to be terrifying and horrible speaks in a sweet and polite tone, we all start to freak out? I mean, it's like we expect-_

"Very well, Circe, thank you," Will's voice kept his composure as he replied, his knuckles drumming gently on the table as the wind gently tugged at his curls, "I trust that your accommodations are-"

"Anything's better then the island, Captain, trust-"

"YOU LIVE IN A CELL!"

It was a moment of freedom, just a fraction, but the second Circe loosened her grip by the slightest; I had tugged her hand down and screamed out, screamed out loud. My voice tore from my throat; and then, Circe had trapped me again, locking away my breath beneath her cold, lifeless hand.

All around the room, eyes swivelled towards me.

I was beginning to use my weight, pulling against Circe's newly tightened hand, my skin roiling.

My feet were beginning to kick.

Will sighed.

"Joey's right, though," his calm, accented voice rolled above the crackling of the fire, dark brown eyes flickering towards me without thought, "The cell…I must apologise for that, Circe. It is so impolite-I would never had insisted on your living quarters, if not for your history-"

"I perfectly understand."

"Good…because I _am_ sorry-"

All of a sudden, Circe let me go; before I could understand what was going on, my entire body gave way, dropping away beneath me. Her support just pulled off, releasing its hold on me completely, her hand pulling away entirely; with a loud _bang_, I crashed down onto the floor, my knees slamming into the cold, hard wood. Pain bolted through me as my skin scraped against the coarse ridges, a cry writhing out of my throat as my hands slapped the wood instinctively. My stomach lurched helplessly.

_Ouch._

"Moron."

I threw a dark scowl at Jared.

As I slowly gathered to my feet, rubbing my sore knees and flicking my bandana-ed hair out of my face, the conversation had continued, as if I hadn't fallen at all.

"Listen, Circe," Will's voice was clear as a streaming river, his hands pulling back to clench together behind his back, "I'm not going to waste your time with casual politeness. After all, I know how tiring the past few days have been."

"Understood."

"Very well…then let me just get to the point-"

"The Fountain of Youth."

"Aye," Will nodded simply enough, his voice steady and calm as he matched the demi-goddess's solemn, icy stare with his own hard one, "Aye. That's it." Beside the still Circe, I had drawn to my full height again, my hands still aching to reach down and rub away the soreness from my knees. My palms felt raw; at the other end of the room, by the long, dusty drapes, Scarlett and Jared were standing still, Jared facing Circe and I, Scarlett facing my brother. Brilliant red hair, like a mane of fire, gleamed down her back.

Lestrade was silent as ever on the other side.

Bootstrap and Barbossa were quiet too.

I'm such a child.

Will was speaking again.

"Aye," he repeated, hesitating slightly as his dark eyes flickered in the dancing light, "Aye…you see…we believe…"

He paused, as if hesitant in his thoughts, in his words. His lips parted slightly as a flash of blankness zapped across his features. Words lost in his throat.

And then, Barbossa spoke.

"What young Turner-"

"Captain Turner-"

"…is tryin' to say, Lils, is dat we all saw de map. We all know what de code on dem map said."

"My name," Circe's voice sounded like the soft singing of wind chimes.

"Aye…yer name."

And then he stopped there too, his yellow eyes darting about as the words died in his throat. Behind him, sitting in the shade of the iron mantel with a little nut in his hand, Little Jack uttered a short apian cry. Dark, shaggy beard quivered in the gentle breeze wafting in through the ajar door as Bootstrap's jaw snapped shut, his words as lost to him as Will's had been. Uncertainly clouded those horrid, cat eyes.

Boots shifted uncomfortably as Will and Barbossa exchanged a brief, unreadable glance.

Circe's chain's rang lowly.

Sparrow just stared.

I sighed.

Still rubbing my aching palms, I spoke out, my voice cutting through the thick silence like knife through butter.

"What they're trying to say, Circe," I rolled my eyes helplessly as everyone returned their attention back on to me, my palms stinging from the friction as I half-turned to face the beautiful witch by my side, "What these _idiots_ are trying to say is that…well…they want your help."

"Help?" Barbossa broke in, his voice tingeing on nasal, "No, not help. No…no, more of a _compromize_."

"Compromise?"

"Aye, lass," Barbossa nodded once to me, his dark sundial hat bobbing as a wicked, yellow grin slowly blossomed along his dry, old lips, "A compromize. You see, Circe, we understand dat yer don't have any obli'gation to help us in any'way but if we all made some re-"

"Actually, it's already been decided."

For a second, no one spoke as Circe rang the room with her odd, dancing voice, her pure red lips in a single, straight line. The heavy metal chains jingled with low, hollow _dings _as they shivered against the floorboards, ringing the air with its rich, dark sound. The world swarmed with the scent of thick, hot cinder.

Breaths caught in throats.

My heart thudded.

"What?" Barbossa spoke again, cocking one of his snaky, wintery eyebrows as those yellow eyes bulged outwards helplessly. Spit fired out of his lips as his voice groaned like cracking wood; beside him, standing in front of his chair like some sort of regal king, Will kept his silence, watching the unfolding scene with rapping knuckles and curious eyes. His father was stone silent beside him.

Jared and Scarlett were looking more and more like a couple.

Lestrade was almost invisible.

Sparrow was not.

_Idiot._

"Like I said, Circe spoke again, her rich voice singing through the air with the cold lamenting of the chains as she shifted her bound wrists gently, "It's settled. All decided."

"I don't-"

"I will help you, gentlemen," Circe broke through his voice, her granite eyes studying the old pirate without a single flicker of emotions, "I will help you all-just like the maps says, just like it was riddled, I _will _lead you to the Fountain of Youth."

For a moment, no one said a word.

At his stand, at his chair, Will's eyes widened helplessly, becoming thick, swirling orbs in his handsome, lined face. His lips parted in open surprise; beside him, Bootstrap had raised a single eyebrow, his dead eyes scrunching up slightly in the mess of his sickly pale skin. Jared was whispering something to Scarlett.

Sparrow's grin was fading.

No one uttered a single word.

_Freaking palms still hurt…._

"What did you do, Joey?"

With a flip of my curls, I snapped my head upwards; at his chair, standing with fists forward on the neat table, Will's dark eyes watched me intensely, every flicker, every muscle focused entirely on me. His dark brown hair stirred gently as his jaw clenched slowly into a hard, thick line, every attention completely staring down at me. The gold medallion glinted at the sliver of chest shown through his deep white collar, gleaming along with his golden sweat; for a moment, my knees threatened to give way as his every fibre, his very _being _focused entirely on me, his stern, beautiful eyes watching my every move. A gulp grew at the back of my throat, tugging deep down in my chest….

_Stop it, idiot._

"What are you talking about?" I crossed my arms helplessly, conscious of his stare as I managed my best scowl in his direction. Cold blood rushed through my veins; beside me, Circe pulled away her coal eyes to stare over at me, her red lips pursed in a single straight line.

I had completely forgotten about Lestrade.

"You know what I mean," Will's voice was sliding higher again, jots of muscles rippling about at his hard jaw line as his eyebrows slowly dipped down, "You know _exactly_-"

"Actually, I have no idea w-"

"Oh, please!" A _slam _resounded through the air as Will punched a fist against the table top, his voice rising into a wild churn as anger suddenly seized him, "You…you expect me to believe that?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU YELLING AT?"

"YOU! I'm yelling at you! Adolescent, childish, immature YOU!"

"I didn't do anything, you fucking moron!" I screamed, pushing my fist behind me as I yelled out towards the men in front of me, ignoring everything else in the room as my blood boiled away, "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO INSULT ME!"

"Oh, right! Like you're innocent-"

"I AM INNOCENT-"

"And what?" He spat, balling his fists against the wooden table as he leaned down against them, his face red with his growing rage, "You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do in this? Absolutely nothing at all?"

"What…what the fuck did I do now? Huh? What in God's name-"

"This, Joey!" Will hollered, spit firing out of his lips as his eyes burst into smouldering pyres of torching, licking flames, "THIS! Circe's leaving of the island, her agreeing to help us….if Barbossa's word is any to take, _she _didn't want to help us in the first place! SHE HAD REFUSED TO HELP US!"

"Well, she changed her mind-"

"Yeah…and you had _nothing_ to do with that-"

"Does it matter, Will?" I cried, flinging my hands as the words squeezed out of my chest in a final attempt, "Does it really matter-she's here, ain't it? She's on board, she's helping us-"

"Yes," He breathed, eyes torching away as his face refused to peel off its red shade, "Maybe, but…god forsake it, Joey! What the hell did you do?"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT-"

"What did you promise Circe? What deal did you make?"

That shut me up.

For a moment, Will and I just stared at each other, our breaths coming out long and deep as our flaming, fire-torched eyes met over the breadth of the room. Our deep, raspy gasps filled the warm space, above the soft cracking of the fire and the roiling waves below; nothing moved, nothing breathed as all the world revolved around Will and I. Nothing else mattered but the two of us, not the sea, not the wind, not the people around us, not the future…

For a moment, we just stood there, lost in each other's eyes.

A soft song hummed away in my ear.

My heart screamed.

_A part of me felt like it was withering away, falling off, dying away into oblivion…._

I took a breath.

"Nothing much," I managed to breathe out loud, not taking my eyes off Will for a moment, "Nothing that I can't live without."

"But-"

"Just…just trust me, alright Will?" I took in the sweet scent of burning wood, my fists tight at my side, " I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

No one spoke a word.

The fire in Will's eyes slowly began to die away.

My heart moaned and cried beneath my chest.

_I know what I'm doing. I know exactly what I'm doing, even if you wouldn't agree with me. Even if you wouldn't be happy about my decision at all, even if you would think I'm stupid, and young, and immature, and not at all smart…I know what I'm doing._

_I'm doing this for you, Will._

_I'm doing this for you._

_And though I'm not giving up much, though it's only a bond with a half-crazy demi-goddess, a bond that involves information on her part and a finished rescue on my part from sirens that still haunt my every step…_

_I'm doing this for you, Will._

_I'm doing this for you._

Just trust me.

"I trust you."

I wanted him to hold me, to wrap my arms around him, to hold him so tight and never let him go. I wanted to hold on to him forever, to protect him, to love him, to always be there for him.

I wanted to stare into those dark eyes forever, to hold his gaze and never, _ever_ let go.

_Will._

_William Turner._

_A name I will remember forever._

"Thank you," I sighed in reply, our eyes still held together, our everything melded fast, "Thank you."

And that was that.

With that, we both retreated back into the real world, pulling our gazes away, turning back to our companions. Our eyes leached off one another towards the rest in the room, our cheeks turned against one another; all around us, the rest of our small party had kept their silence, eyes wide and curious. None had said a word, nor a single comment; they had just stood there, watching quietly, eyes with hidden messages I didn't have the time and energy to decipher. Faces were drawn up in interest, eyes trained completely onto us. The air was thick with heaving silence.

_I want to hold you for eternity…._

Sparrow's gaze caught mine.

For a moment, no one said a single word.

And then, Will was talking again.

"Circe," He cleared his throat, his dark brown eyes shifting hazily onto her with a subtle, hinting sheen, "You truly mean to help us?"

"I keep my promises, young Turner."

"Very well," his voice was calm again, his face returning to its orange hue, "Very well…you mean to help us all the way through?"

"Yes. Unless Joey says otherwise, yes."

He flinched at this, as so did Lestrade and Jared at their respective corners. Scarlett whispered something frantically into Jared's ear.

Sparrow offered me a weak smile.

Will cleared his throat again.

"Very well….all the way, it is then. You will lead us on?"

"All the way, through every obstacle-mind you, though. I will only _lead_ you, not help you. Figuring your way around said things is up to the lot of you entirely."

_Obstacles?_

Sparrow's eyes were like Indian ink.

Chains groaned.

"But of course….mind…how _exactly _do you plan on taking us there, on leading us to the Fountain? How can you-"

"I see all, Captain Turner of the _Flying Dutchman. _I can see what lays before us; but one of the sweet farewell gifts from my mother. I see many things. The path to the Fountain of Youth, will be one of them."

No one spoke.

My eyes hurt.

I couldn't breathe.

"Very well. Where to?"

"West."

**Ta-da! END OF CHAPTER!  
**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, guys! MEANS A LOT TO ME!**

**Anyway, I will try to write as much as I can, and to keep updating regularly. Thanks again and see you guys soon!**

**XOXO**


	34. Waking Dreams

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Really love it all!**

**Hope you guys enjoy this one too!**

**Chapter 33: Waking Dreams**

"You're silly, you know that?" Circe's smooth, trickling voice echoed through the darkness, ringing against the cold metal bars with a chilling, reverberating _ding_, "Extremely silly." Her voice crooned like a soft, rushing stream, crashing through rocks and sand among dark green birches. It felt like a breath of summer rain.

I could only sigh in return.

_Tell me something new._

All around me was darkness. Pure, liquid black darkness; near the metal bars of my cell, the flickering candle had long died away, but a glowing splint of ember piercing through the webbed blackness. It was useless though; there was nothing but the eternal night of the dungeons, the horrid, cold darkness wrapping me with tight hands, suffocating me away. Not a sound whispered through the blackness.

Not even the rats.

It was late, so very late yet I was still here, lying on the thin mattress, falling into waking dreams. Thoughts bounced about in my skull, chasing sleep away as my weary bones sank deep down into the soft white cot. My tired eyes stared upward as my head rested on the thin, coarse pillow. Up above, the dank, wooden ceiling was nothing more then a slate of black, a never-ending abyss of salty lichen and green algae; for a moment, I took the black ceiling as a blank canvas, drawing and painting dreams out on the endless void above. Colours splashed out in different shades, in different tones-for a moment, it was as if my dreams had come to live above me, my thoughts painting out in exact detail. Faces flashed out of my imagination….

Will stared right down at me.

_Blast it._

It had been like this, just like this for the past hour or so; no sleep, no rest, just the aching memory of Will haunting me like a persistent, irritating ghost. A ghost that just wouldn't go away; every time I closed me eyes, every time I blinked, he was there, staring down at me with those deep brown eyes, a slight frown to his lips. His smooth voice echoed in the distance, a whisper at the corners of my mind, poking like pricks of a needle drawing blood….

My heart felt as if it had been stabbed.

_Blast it._

I just wanted to sleep. I just wanted to close my eyes, to fall into the darkness without a thought, without a fear…

I wanted to wake up to my room, to find myself staring up at my brown ceiling, at my low, hanging light. I wanted to sit up to wooden walls, my Star Wars posters staring back at me in a wakening call, the soft, white sheets thick around me like a swirling, comfortable sea of pure snow. I wanted to wake up to the sun pouring through my window, the sound of the sweet birds crooning on the trees, the kids next door kicking up a ruckus in their garden. I wanted to feel the morning sunrays on my skin, licking me clean as I stretched my muscles to wake, my toes wiggling to life beneath the thick folds of the covers. I wanted to drop my feet down onto the wood, to feel the sleek wood beneath my warm toes as I slowly tore myself out of sleep, my eyes dropping down to my cheeks. I wanted to smell the wonderful scent of cooking bacon, of burnt sausages crisping the summer air and waking me from my leeching slumber, snapping my eyes awake like a slap to my face. I wanted to spring to my feet, ignoring my weariness as I pushed through the mess of my room, jumping over my skateboard and rushing through the door, my feet thundering against the wood like loud claps of thunder. I wanted to run down the hallway, letting my nose lead me as I charged down the stairs, forgetting any bouts of sleep altogether. I wanted to hear the familiar voices, the quiet mumbles echoing up to me as I ran down the steps, my bare legs streaked with the fresh, untainted sunlight. I wanted to fly through the hall, rushing towards the kitchen, letting the sweet aroma of bacon and the whisper of familiar voices engulf me totally, throwing exhaustion completely out the window. I wanted to charge into the kitchen, to demand for my bacon, to see their faces turn up towards me…

_Daddy._

_Johnny._

_I wish you were here, telling me what to do._

_I wish you were here._

From the next cell, somewhere in the darkness, Circe was speaking again.

"Why _are _you sleeping in the cells with me, little one?"

Pushing away my thoughts and gulping back every ounce of emotion, I answered her, still staring up into the eternal night.

"I told you," My voice came out rough, my eyes staring right up into the endless void, "I'm trying to teach Will a lesson."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"You know…about the way he's treating you."

"Treating me?"

"Yes, Circe…how many times do we have to go through this? What Will is doing, locking you away, making you wear manacles-"

"I don't mind."

"It's _wrong,_" My teeth gritted helplessly as I continued to stare up into the darkness, ignoring the swirls of colour that my imagination seem to be playing about with_, "_ It doesn't matter that you don't care or not. That's not the point."

"What the point, then?"

"That it's wrong!"

For a moment, I was granted with silence as Circe held her words, stopping the conversation with the echo of her sweet, odd voice tingling through the air. A rat squealed somewhere beneath my cot; for a moment, neither of us spoke, our thoughts and breaths lost into the ink black ceiling above, our hearts silent. Not a word passed our lips; it was just quiet, a comfortable, black silence that covered us, blanketing us away beneath the folds of our soft red covers. My heart murmured beneath my chest.

Will's voice whispered in my ear.

_Blast it._

Circe's voice broke through the silence like a river crashing down a waterfall into the never-ending, blue depths.

"So," her voice was calm as ever, ringing through the cold, metal place in odd, hollow echoes, like a disembodied voice in the darkness, "You are sleeping down here, at the darkest, deepest corner of the ship, in a cell meant for prisoners, on a bed full of mites, in complete darkness…all in a bid to prove some arcane point to Will?"

"Yes…he has to know that he can't just treat people like this. Not even you."

"And doing this…sleeping in cell…this will prove your point?"

"Exactly."

A sigh rippled through the darkness, a soft murmur like the gentle lapping of waves against a smooth-paned beach.

Will's face stared down at me.

_Blast it._

Wait.

Did she say….

MITES?

"My little Joanna…."

"What now?"

"You're not doing this for me."

For a moment, I stopped, my mind going blank as the blackness pulled me deep into its depths, trapping me in its hold. My throat burned like fire. My vision was dark.

_What the fuck?_

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?"

"You know what it means"

"No, I d-"

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"What?"

"Why don't you tell him that you love him?"

A sigh, a slow, agonising sigh slithered out of me, the low _hiss _cutting through the darkness like a cold, thin silver blade. My chest sank deep beneath the red silk; for a second, neither of us spoke as the low, deep sigh whispered through the eternal night, echoing against the cold metal bars and ringing throughout the empty, cold dungeons. Chills crept up my skin, pricking bolts of silver into the blackness like flashes of light, frightening my hairs into a complete freeze. My heart sank deep down into the coarse white sheets.

_Blast it._

"I don't know what love is," I answered in a low whisper, staring up into the endless night above. My hands tugged at the red silk; with a soft ruffling, I pulled the thin red blankets closer towards me, dragging it higher up my body. Toes, warm and snuck, wiggled beneath the tipping crimson ends.

My heart murmured like the beating of a butterfly's wings.

Circe's voice whispered in the pure blackness.

"Who does, child?" It was like a breeze, a gentle, licking breeze echoing through the darkness, "Most of the time, you go through life, never knowing the name of things, the meaning of things. You never know which way is up and down, not until the end, the very end. Only at the ending of the tale do we truly understand everything."

"By then, it's too late."

"It's always too late."

I had nothing more to say.

For another dreary moment, we kept our silence. Nothing whispered, nothing moved; outside and beneath us, the room barely rocked, the blackness completely still around us. After all, we were too deep below, to far down beneath the water to feel anything, to be heard…

"You speak as if from experience," I stated simply, letting my voice croak out in its normal volume, shattering through the darkness in repetitive, bone-chilling echoes. The rat squealed again beneath me.

Something whispered in the dark.

Circe didn't reply.

For a moment, silence was all I heard.

Pure, untainted silence.

And then, in the thick of the darkness, in the pure black swirl all around us, I heard it.

_I heard it._

Circe was laughing, a cold horrid laughter, staggered and gasping like the last cries of a dying animal. It was humourless, grim laugh, bone-chilling, nerve-wracking; it was as if the witch had taken two slates of metal and scrape them against one another, screeching the black dungeons with the terrible, _terrible _laments. My entire being froze in place; it was so _horrible_, so dead and so unreal that for a moment, I thought that I had truly fallen asleep.

And that this was a nightmare.

A waking, horrific nightmare.

My heart stopped beating entirely.

My blood froze in my veins.

My breath caught in my lungs.

_This wasn't happening._

_This wasn't happening._

For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly afraid.

So, _so _afraid.

_That's it._

With a quick jolt, I snapped up from the cot and jumped down to the ground, my cold, bare feet slamming hard against the wet wood. Thin, red silk crumbled down to my feet; without even waiting a single moment, I ran through the darkness, my hands reaching in front of me, steadying me. Naked feet thundered against the shaky wood; with quick, cold breaths, I ran blindly, my heart thundering beneath my chest like a slamming, rock drum. My stomach lurched uncontrollably.

Through the darkness, through the flying black and clapping feet, I found the metal bars; with groping hands, I reached about until at long last, I found the small door set among the metal bars, my middle finger catching in the lock.

Thank God I had the sense not to lock it after myself.

With a loud, horrid _screech, _much like that bone-shuddering sound next door, I pushed the metal cage door open, sending spirals of minute silver cascading into the never-ending night. The faint ember flickered at my feet; there was no time, though. I just ran, running through the door into the black, black walls, turning about in circles as the complete blackness swirled about me in a never-ending, horrific net.

Circe was still laughing, the horrid, agonising giggle echoing all about me in a dizzying spell.

I was beginning to shiver.

My heart screamed with pure terror.

_Fuck it._

Turning to my right, I began to run, not caring if I couldn't see a thing, not caring if I was tripped down into a black, black hole and fall into the endless, cold water-

A hand, a cold icy hand much like a large, cold talon, clenched around my right wrist, tight and cold as metal. My blood, all of my blood completely froze as the force staggered my steps and pulled my knees back, holding me in a cold stop. My mind screamed out in terror; with a flick of damp curls, I turned to my right, my very being frozen solid, completely numb. My heart boomed in my ear.

_Oh God._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to d-_

"Where are you going, little one?"

Her voice…

Her voice…

It was enough to make me want to burst into tears.

_Oh God…_

Through the darkness, through the imperceptible pure darkness, I saw her, her gleaming black eyes staring up at me from between dull slivers of metal bars. Her body was completely hidden in the black; all I could see was her eyes, but a pair of pure white sparks, of tiny flares flying adrift behind them bars. Pure white sparks, like starburst of flaming ashen, screaming out of the deep, black shadows…

She wouldn't let me go.

My heart was screaming in agony.

_Oh God._

"Away."

And then, I was tumbling about in the dark again, the iron grip releasing its hold on me and sending me spiralling into the blackness once more. My feet gave way beneath me; I didn't stop.

I didn't even breathe.

I just ran, my feet slapping against the wood as I leapt towards my safety, towards my sanity, Circe's cackling laugh echoing behind me like never-ending, torturing wail.

**8888888**

There was something devilishly beautiful about the night_._

Beyond my swinging legs, beyond the empty cold ship decks, the sea was silent, a mass of pure black stretching from meters below my feet to miles on either side. It was nothing more then a slate of pure darkness; no colour, no life, just the ink black night whispering beneath the ships, surging in the cold shadows.

Utter darkness.

There were no stars.

Or moon.

Just the usual unearthly glow, the slight light that illuminated the darkness, giving it lines and shapes.

Just the strange light of the world.

It was beautiful.

Completely and utterly beautiful.

The world smelt of sweet, tantalizing salt.

_As usual._

Beside me, sitting up on the board with me, but two inches off to the left, Sparrow let out a low, uneven sigh.

"Can't sleep?" His voice was quiet, like a whisper in the dark, endless night. Tiredness seeped through his tone; a waft of rum, sweet, rich rum filled the air as his low voice rumbled through the night, clashing against the harsh salty air like a rough slap to the face. The world rocked gently beneath us.

The rolling of the waves, the gentle sound of water crashing against wood, filled the air like a soft lullaby, a beautiful tune deep in the night.

My feet tapped against the hard, lichen-covered wood, my heels drumming softly.

The world was black around us.

I sighed.

"Circe scares me," was my only answer as I stared out into the night, my voice as soft as the rolling waves far below. My heart beat a soft tune; beside me, Sparrow's strong body heat pressed against my side, scalding me in the cool night air like hot, roiling water. His fingers drummed an inch near mine.

He smelt horrible, as usual.

_For once, though, I don't mind._

White capped waves glowed through the blackness, shining by some unseeable light source.

The cold, salty wind was numbing my fingers.

"She scares everyone, luv," his voice croaked through the darkness, his heat slamming against me like hot, _hot _slaps, "Thought yer figure dat out by now."

"I'm a bit slow, remember?"

Sparrow just chuckled.

With that, we fell silence, tumbling into the easy comfort of each other's presence; how strange was that, do you think? How strange was it that Jack Sparrow and I could be at each other's necks one day, and then be sitting in the dark, silently enjoying each other's company? How strange was it that we could hate it each and, at the same time….

_I supposed I did like him…a little…_

_He was still a jackasss._

_And a moron._

_And a pervert._

_And someone really needs to skewer him through with a harpoon._

But…

The sky and sea had melded into one, becoming but one giant canvas of shadows.

The wind whispered about in my ear, singing its sweet tune.

The world felt magical.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Speak it."

"What happened to Circe?"

Beside me, Sparrow made no other sound. His breath was deep and slow; there was a nice pace to it, a nice rhythm that sounded as if you could almost hum along to it. It felt like I should start tapping my feet; it was long and soft, tickling my ear and melding together with the murmuring, calling wind. His fingers tapped an odd tune.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

I liked the way he breathed.

The white of my nightgown shivered by my ankles, hanging down the side of the ship like a pure bed sheet draped open.

I couldn't feel my fingers.

"What do you mean?"

There was an odd rumble to his voice.

Another sigh slithered out of my lips.

"Circe, genius," I answered simply enough, kneading my numb fingers together atop my silk-white lap, letting the cold, night gale mess about with my hair, "You know…why is she so…soooo….sooooo…."

"Crazy?"

"Aye."

Sparrow didn't answer. Instead, he continued to breath out in a low tone, taking in the rich, salty air and releasing his rum-fouled one. His heat warmed my side, slapping like quick taps to my skin, leaving me feeling raw and burnt. Dark dreadlock bustled slightly into my vision.

The sweet sound of the waves sung softly, stirring through the air in a minute, little whisper.

A star peeked above.

_I guessed I liked him._

_A little._

"Is she really mad, Sparrow?"

"Yer tell me…she pounced on yer, not me."

"Yes…but I'm asking you."

A sigh, rich with the sweet scent of rum, murmured through the cool air.

I clenched my cold fingers together.

My heart skipped.

"Aye, luv," there was a calmness, a straight seriousness that I had never heard in the man's voice before, "Aye…Circe's long gone mad."

Nobody said a word.

For a moment, we just sat there, staring out into the night, listening to the soft whispers of the sea. Our breaths mingled together; it was so beautiful, you know, the sea at night. So utterly beautiful; so quiet, so still, like a painting etched in front of my vision forever. No colour touched the world but it was still beautiful, the sounds and scents plunging me deep within their waves, holding me tight in their grasp. The black world embraced me in complete silence-and I, lonesome, pathetic I, hugged it back, sinking deep into its depths, falling through the never-ending black….

For a moment, I felt lost in all the darkness.

In all the beautiful, swirling darkness.

"What happened to her?"

My voice was barely a whisper.

So was Sparrow's.

"The usual."

"Which is?"

"Hurt, luv, and pain…and imprisonment…fear…anger…hatred…_betrayal_…"

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

I just sat there, staring out into the darkness as Sparrow's last word echoed into the gliding, smooth wind. My hands had lost all feelings; I just sat in silence, knocking my heels against the side of the ship, listening to the wind howl above the soft, tumbling waves. My heart trotted about in rhythm.

The world was so beautiful tonight.

_What's your secret, Sparrow?_

A beautiful melody was beginning to play in my head, singing along with the rushing waves, the swaying wind, the dancing shadows…

"Sparrow?"

"Hm?"

"Did you know her?"

"Aye."

"Did you love her?"

He didn't answer.

With a soft hand, I reached to the side; my cold, numb fingers sprang to life the moment they touched Sparrow's, his strong body heat biting the cold completely away. His coarse skin scratched against my own; without a word, I held his hand, entangling our fingers together, holding on to each other. Our palms sat in each other's, perfect together.

His fingers closed over mine.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

I liked the way he breathed

I leaned to the side, pressing my bare, cold arm against his, lapping up his heat.

My tumbling hair pressed down against his dark shoulders, rustling softly against the fabric, whispering in my ear along with the wind and waves.

Dark blonde curls mingled carelessly with hard, black dreadlocks as my heavy head fell into the nook of his neck, my head completely resting against his broad shoulders.

He had comfortable shoulders.

His heat pressed against my cheek, soft and beautiful like the gentle lapping of the waves.

His heartbeat tickled my ear, a soft, steady beat vibrating through his hard skin, his strong bones.

The world was so black.

_Breathe in._

_Breathe out._

I liked the way he breathed

As I closed my eyes, letting the darkness consume me into its fold, letting go of the world completely, Sparrow's voice whispered softly in my ear, like a gentle kiss of the wind.

"More then the world."

**TA-DA! END OF CHAPTER!**

**Wow…I have to say that was a fast one…and a short one…-_-**

**Anyway, thanks guys! Really love all the reviews!**

**See you in the next one!**

**P.S. For some reason, this chapter just went missing on the net...-_-...sorry about that!**

**XOXO**


	35. Girl Talk

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Hey guys! I need to know-is this a Mary-Sue? 'Cause I've been on the forums with some Sue-Haters and…well…it scares me. Tell me your comments, please!**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, guys!XD**

**Here we go!  
**

**Girl Talk**

"Dead?"

"Dead."

Beside me, Scarlett's brilliant blood-red hair rippled in the wind, flying behind her like a sea of pure red. Her small, heart-shaped face peered out of the flying, crimson strands like a curious animal, dark green eyes knitted together in tiny, olive slits. Her dry red lips were pressed together in a thick scowl.

"Well, that doesn't make sense."

A sigh slithered out of my own lips.

"Tell me about it."

With that, I jumped backwards and plopped my butt down on the hot wooden barrier, my back facing the white-gold waves and my eyes trained on the still, lazing pirates on the deck; it was one of those days. One of those days when the sky was a deep touched azure, the clouds were a few and scattered white bunch, the sun was a bright and glowing white orb, the waves were glittering and golden, the air was warm and seductive like gentle, lapping kisses….

It was one of those days that you just wanted to lie down and nap under the sun, closing your eyes to the entire world.

Forgetting everything.

Except if you were me, of course, when the thoughts _never _left you.

Beside me, Scarlett turned as well, her ruby hair flying back against the clear cerulean sky as she leaned her fragile back against the wooden fence. The leather skirted overall that she wore, the one stained tan, stirred in the warm wind with soft, barely audible _rustles._ Her little nose was scrunched up.

She was still frowning.

In front of us, the pirates moved about sluggishly, mopping up hot, baked wooden floors and sharpening blades.

Voices stirred in the hot, still air.

_God, I want to sleep…_

"I don't understand," Scarlett's musical voice tinged the air as she spoke again, her white-clad arms drawing up to rest their elbows on the scorched, sun-baked wood, "Are you sure you heard right? Are you sure you didn't imagine it?"

My boots thumped against the shadowed wood, my heels knocking out a bluish melody.

Sweat rolled down the side of my face.

"Yes," I managed a tired groan as I threw a dark scowl sideways, frowning down at the petite redhead, "Yes, _I'm sure_…I mean, why the hell would I imagine _that_?"

"Oh…I don't know…you don't exactly have the best memory, Joanna."

"Did your father teach you to talk like that?"

"I'm serious, Joanna," Scarlett released a small sigh, her olive slits fluttering up towards me as her frown pulled at the sides of her lips even more, "I mean, couldn't this just be a mistake? After all, I highly doubt that a _dead _God was the one who brought Jared and yourself back-"

"That's is if you believe in Gods…."

"Oh, would you quit that?" Scarlett's wispy voice snapped through the air, reaching above the dull mutterings of the undead pirates and those of the others beyond, high-pitching above the swirling waves below and the gentle crunching of waves against wood, "After everything that has happened…. after _everything_…"

"I still have a right to doubt things-"

"Not when it's staring you straight in the face," her teeth gritted slightly as she half-turned towards me, green slits disappearing in her face as the shimmer of sweat casted cold reflections all about her pale features," Not after everything…. Joanna, be realistic! You and Jared travelled back in time through a painting…. you came about a mysterious orb who shows you your heart's desire…you stumbled upon a ghost ship that haunts mortal men's fears…you meet with the sirens…for the love, Joanna! Truly you cannot believe that…that _these _Gods don't exist after you slayed that siren singlehanded-"

"Why does _everyone_ insist that I didn't kill those sirens on my own?"

"Simply because you didn't," was Scarlett's only reply as she turned away from me again, those unnerving, green slits swivelling their attention back towards the lazing, slouching pirates. Red hair flickered in the wind like sparks of gleaming fire.

_Idiot._

For a moment, neither of us spoke, our eyes watching the idyllic scene in front of us without comment; throughout the entire sun deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, from up at the helm to down nearer the dark bow, black-clad pirates lounged about, boots a-still, figures slumped in corners. Footsteps thudded like slow, dripping drops; it was a scene of pure sloth, thick, hairy men chatting dully about themselves with glazed eyes and monotonous voices. _Scrapes _filled the air as flintstones dragged against the edges of swords, sliding over the deadly, thin ridges in sleek, single movements. Rum bottles glinted beside bulging tummies.

_Correction._

_Idiots._

_Not idiot._

_I'm surrounded by idiots._

The chocking scent of gunpowder filled the air as a handful of pirates cleared their rusty pistols, chugging them with silvery dark powder and cleaning the holes with tiny-feathered dusters.

Dull laughter sounded from the helm.

The sea lurched beneath us.

Beside me, Scarlett was speaking again.

"What else did she say?"

"What?"

"Circe," Scarlett scrunched her nose again, dark green eyes glinting like bright emeralds carved into tiny slits, "What else did Circe say?"

The warm wind licked at my hair.

"Nothing," I answered simply enough, turning my gaze away from her again, towards the pirates and the other two ships that sailed quietly beside us, "Nothing else... Will's little minions interrupted us."

"After that? You didn't question her further down at the cells?"

"I was tired, Scarlett. Exhausted like hell…and she went crazy on me."

"How about this morning?"

"She completely ignored my existence-what was I suppose to do?"

" I don't know, Joanna," Scarlett sighed slightly, her sweet voice caught in the thick air, "Anything…everything….I mean, you don't know anything now.

"I know about the Gods."

"Which you don't believe in."

"Still-"

"What I don't get though, "Scarlett broke through my drawl, flickering my eyes back to her again, "Is why."

For a moment, I paused, staring at her through the shimmering veil of her flying blood hair. Her white sleeves billowed about her delicate wrists like flowing streams of pure snow; for a moment, just a moment, the image of the old Scarlett, of the pink-clad, bare-footed Scarlett flashed across my mind, jumping across my vision like a jack in a box. Her billowing sleeves instantly reminded me of that god-awful pink dress; standing there, drenched in the fierce sunlight, in that coarse leather skirted overall, with black pants and thick metal boots, with flying, uncombed red hair, Scarlett looked so….

So….

_Different._

Someone was singing near the mast.

"Why what?"

"Why _you_?"

" I don't understand."

"I mean," Scarlett's eyes were focused down, the slits of jade staring down at the wooden boards and away from the sun, "Why did this…this Balder picked you?"

"Saying that's he's real, of course."

"Well, let's pretend he is. Let's pretend that everything….everything Circe told us, told you, was real. Let's…. let's pretend-if so, why _you_?"

"I'm not liking your tone."

"I mean, Joanna…why is it, that out of all the people in the world, out of all the _times _of the world, you were picked? What's so special about you?"

"Scarlett…"

"I'm not insulting you, please. Take no offence….I only mean to ask-"

"Why me?"

"Yes…" her voice trailed slightly as her little white nose scrunched up even more, her shoulders slack against the blue-white sky, her attention completely lost to me, "Yes…don't you see, Joanna? Don't you see how…how…_odd_ it is? Ho_w strange_?"

_Strange_, the words whispered in my mind as I stared away, the echoes bouncing about my head like a lost ball, _strange._

Of all words.

For a moment, neither of us spoke as we stared out onto the sun-baked deck, our thoughts hidden, our voices silent. Dull, bored voices, like murmurs of the hot wind, filled the air; up above, the giant white sails of the _Flying Dutchman _swung above lazily, shifting the thick shadows about, creeping away the glistening giant ball of the sun. Wood creaked as the hot breeze tugged at the creamy sails; it was such a perfect day to sleep in, to curl up in the corner, cock my head back, close my eyes, fall into darkness….

"What does this all mean, Joanna?"

"No idea, Redhead. No idea."

And the words were lost to us again.

We sat like that, still, silent companions for a good 10 minutes or so, staring out onto the three decks that laid paralleled to one another; it was all a sluggish blur, the men's movements slow and distant. Shapes and lines didn't make sense.

Not one sense at all.

Sleep tugged at the corners of my being.

Finally, I broke the silence, like a hammer shattering through a thin pane of foggy glass.

"Speaking of having no idea…"

"What now?"

"Do you have any idea what _you're _doing?"

With a quick swish of dancing, cherry curls, Scarlett snapped her eyes up from the wooden ground, her dark green eyes widening ever so slightly. Her red lips parted a little, raising her cheekbones even higher. Dark eyelashes fluttered in surprise.

Slits of emerald gazed up at me with stinging curiosity.

A chorus of laughter rang from a corner.

The boiling wind picked up speed.

"Me?"

"Yup."

"A-About what? What a-am _I _doing?"

"Nothing, apparently"

"I…I don't un-"

"About Jared, you knucklehead. Do you have any idea what you're doing about Jared?"

For the first time, for the ultimate, memorable first time, Scarlett blushed; a deep beet red, like the flashing colour of her gleaming hair, engulfed her pale white face like a surging tidal wave. Her delicate high cheekbones, ever so prominent, bloomed like a pair of dashing roses, the violent shade of red scorching over her pasty skin. Even her ears reddened; without a word, the pretty redhead threw her eyes back down to the ground again, letting her entire face simmer in a boiling crimson, her brilliant hair swinging over. Her chapped lips quivered gently behind the crimson veil.

Her white-clad arms swung back down, dropping to her sides to grab at each self-consciously.

A shudder ran through her small body.

_Jeez._

"Dude-"

"That's an extremely improper question, Joanna," Scarlett's voice seemed to screech through the air as she interrupted me with a sharp, loud voice, her melodic tone completely off-key and unstable, "That's such an indecent and unacceptable question, such an unladylike man-"

"Sweetheart," a lance of humour pierced through me as my eyes completely locked on the top of Scarlett's ruby head, the hot wood stinging my palms and butt raw, "We're among pirates! PIRATES! Nobody expects you to be civil among pirates!"

Scarlett could barely reply.

_Classic._

_Pure classic._

As Scarlett's crimson shade deepened, her glinting teeth biting down on her lips, a smile began to crack across my face; just seeing her like this, all lost and confused and completely embarrassed…

I had no idea why but I was becoming fucking amused.

Beside me, down beside my hips, Scarlett folded her arms across her leather-clad chest, sucking in a deep, shaky breath.

"It doesn't matter where we are, with what company I'm in-I'm a Lady, Joanna. I am my father's daughter and I _refuse_ to succumb-"

"No one cares."

"I _will _not-"

"Jesus, Scarlett!" I rolled my eyes as the grin slowly faded from my face, my quick flash of amusement leaving just as quickly as it had first came, "It's a simple question-what are you doing about my brother?"

"Joanna-"

"You like him, right?"

"Really-"

"Do you?"

"I-I-I…I…Jared…"

"Scarlett…"

For a moment, Scarlett uttered not a word, turning her fleeting emerald eyes back down towards the ground. Dancing red hair shook in the breeze; for a good few minutes, the petite Redhead hid behind the curtain of her blood-red hair, hiding her features away from my relentless stare. Her pale white arms held on to one another with a bone-white grip.

In front of us, among the squatting pirates and the _scraping _of stone against metal, another boom of laughter sounded, piercing high up into the clear blue heavens.

Up above, the white sails billowed in the wind, dancing about with the other ships' sails as well; I wondered how we looked like from afar, how menacing the sight of three pirate ships, surging the golden waves side by side, edging through the treacherous waters silently, looked like to others….

Menacing enough not to be bothered, it seems.

_Everyone safe Lord Errol and his merry men, that is._

The hot wind threatened to pull of my bandana.

Down beside me, leaning against the hot wood and paralleled to my thumping feet, Scarlett was speaking again, her voice as quiet as the lapping wind.

"Your brother," she sounded like the hot wind itself, her face hidden behind the veil of trembling ruby curls as her melodic tone whispered out a quiet song, "Jared…Jared is an incredible man, Joanna. So incredible, and perfect…perfect…he's sweet. Incredibly sweet, and kind too…"

"I get that."

"No you don't…no, you don't at all. Jared's…Jared's honourable, Joanna. Honourable and respectful…and wise! He's definitely wise…and a pure gentlemen…"

"I get that too."

"…and though he loses his head time and again…he's so gentle, and calm with me…he understands everything, and always tries to make it better…"

"I get that…I think…"

"…and when he looks at me, with those eyes….with those _beautiful_, stirring eyes…it's like my heart just stops beating entirely, my entire world just….stopping. Stopping entirely…oh, and the way he would wrap his arms…"

"Ok. _That _I don't get."

"…and he's so protective, especially of you Joanna…I mean, if my father was here…if Jared was a Lord, or an Earl, or even a Baron…if he wasn't…if he wasn't…"

"A smelly jock from the future?"

"If only things were different, Joanna…if only _everything_ was different…"

This time, I couldn't reply her.

For the next ten minutes, we both held our silence, baking under the streaming, white-gold sun as our thoughts trapped away our voices; it was a strange idea, wasn't it? A completely strange idea; of course, this were strange as it was already, what with the magic and the pirates and the Gods…

But what if?

What if things really were…_different_?

What if Jared and I had never gone back in time?

No…

What if Jared and I were born _now_, in _this _time?

What if, 18 years ago, a group of triplets were born to a young woman, who ultimately died in childbirth, leaving her young husband the sole-bread winner of two baby boys and a little girl?

What if, 18 years ago, this young father raised these children up to the best of his abilities, providing for them with his grungy job of…say…a cobbler?

Or maybe a soldier.

What if, nearly two months, this father and one of his sons died in a horrible accident, leaving the young man and woman to fend alone in the world?

What if, by accident, the young woman followed the pirate up onto the ship, only to find herself and her brother embarking on a crazy, full-blown adventure?

What if Will never became the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?

What if Elizabeth had died?

What if Will had decided to leave Elizabeth, instead of the other way around?

What if we had left Scarlett back at Seadog's?

What if Will and I had been just met on the street, two ordinary people bumping into one another, a grand design of fate itself?

_What if?_

The world didn't have time for _What If_s.

Not even a fraction.

"Do you love him?"

Scarlett's sweet sigh filled the hot air.

"Maybe…I don't know…"

"Nobody knows anything these days."

"You do."

For a moment, I blinked out of my sweaty gaze; with wide eyes, I turned back to stare down at the top of Scarlett's cherry head, helplessly cocking a single eyebrow. The top of my brow, near the red rim of my old bandana was beginning to sweat, thick, fat droplets rolling down the side of my face and deep over my neck. My hands stung painfully.

My heels were drumming out the beat to Green Day's Holiday.

The ship hit a little swell.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Green eyes, still slits against the fierce, glaring sun, peered up at me as Scarlett moved; with a slight flick of her hair, her pale white face was revealed once more, her little nose as scrunched up as before. Dark eyelashes fluttered gently against pale cheekbones.

She wasn't blushing anymore, at least.

"With men, I mean. You know how to deal with men."

_What the-_

"Says who?"

"Well…no one…but I see the way you handle Will."

I kept my eyebrow raised.

"Will."

"Yes…I mean…you know how to keep him wanting you, to keep him longing for you. I don't know what you do…but somehow, you know exactly what to do to keep Captain Turner deeply fond of you."

"Will."

"Yes. Will Turner."

For a moment, we just stared at each other, our eyes locking over the short distance, our attention entirely focused on one another.

A coarse voice called through the air.

My heart skipped.

"William Turner is _not _fond of me."

"If you believe that, then you are certainly as dumb as I thought."

With a scowl, I opened my mouth, ready to fire a nasty lashing in her direction when a familiar accented voice filled the air, ceasing my words and thoughts in mid-air.

"Lunch'n, mizzez?"

It was Lestrade, booming towards us with heavy feet, his bulky scalp glistening with sweat. Loud _thuds _screamed through the air; in the middle of all that heat, light and sweat, John Lestrade looked like a distant mirage, a hazy imagination walking through the lazy, golden decks with outstretched arms. His every movement was slow and sluggish, as if the man was wading through a pool of thick, sweet honey; every part of his skin, from his sweat-gleamed face to his little fingers, were a deep red, a dark, ruddy colour much like the shade of Scarlett's vibrant hair. Sweat slicked off every inch of him, dripping down towards the wooden boards as he thundered towards us, moving ever so slowly. Large ears glowed a brilliant red; sweat, layers and layers of it, stuck the coarse white shirt and tight leather pants to his skin, making the fabric wrap around the piling cords of muscles. Beads of clear liquid glinted at his shaven head.

_A hot shaved gorilla with clothes._

Aye.

That was my old analyse of him.

Only then, of course, he was much more friendly.

"Here yer go, Miz Wolfe, Ladie Errol," his voice rumbled through the air as he finally stopped a good meter in front of us, stretching out his hands and showing up his perfectly formed biceps, "Lunchn's fine today." Sweat gleamed on his arms as well; in both of his massive, thick hands were a pair of plates, each laden with a generous amount of meat. A small slice of tomato peered out among all the dark red flesh.

I couldn't even smell anything.

With a slight tilt to the front, Lestrade held his place a meter away as he handed over the plates to us; he wore that expression again. That expression that I had become so familiar with, the expression I had learned to hate; his thin, colourless lips had been drawn into a straight line, tight around the corners and bordered by premature wrinkles. His hard, wide brow was snake-smooth, his clean shaven face hard and set as stone; no emotion, not a single emotion played out on his features as he slowly pulled back his hands, his heels rooting down onto the ground. His blue eyes were like flints of cold blue stone.

Completely guarded.

It was starting to get on my nerve.

"Thank you, John," Scarlett offered a sweet smile as she took the metal, laden plate from the giant pirate, her teeth flashing out from among the shivering red, "We had forgotten about lunch."

"I thought so, Miz."

It was like staring at a stone, brick wall.

_Cold as ice._

Frustration bubbled within me like a spewing, pouring pit.

I almost rocked over the side.

Without a word, I took the plate of food from Lestrade, balancing it carefully I turned my eyes away from him; mounted on the plate, in jagged, thick pieces, was the usual salted fish, the meat dry and limp. Not a single aroma met my senses.

I couldn't help but grimaced.

_Every single day, meal after meal, the same fucking th-_

In front of me, Lestrade was beginning to walk away, his white back facing against us as he began his stride along the length of the sun-drenched deck. His heavy metal boots thundered against the wood like loud _booms_.

His muscles rolled beneath his clothes like loose, sloshing waves.

Another round of laughter pierced through the air.

The waves sang.

Then, it hit me.

"Lessie?"

Before us, Lestrade stopped in mid-air, his leg hanging in balance as his muscles froze in their place; with a quick wipe, his red, wet face turned back towards me, his cold blue eyes staring out of the blinking brightness. His lips were still rigid still.

"Yes, Miz?"

He was freaking polite.

Taking in a deep, salty breath, I settled the plate down on my lap, balancing it on my thighs as my heels stopped drumming against the hard wood. Scarlett uttered a soft sigh beside me.

The wind was tugging me back.

"You're mum's some sort of witch, right?"

In front of us, Lestrade's lips parted slightly; for a moment, he just hang there, completely frozen.

And then, with a quick swivel on his heel, the massive pirate turned around back towards us, his loose white shirt flapping about in the wind. Drops of sweat, thick and round, bounced down onto the ground in loud splats as he swivelled back towards us, his high cheekbones glistening brightly. Large arms, about around as my massive thighs, folded habitually across his giant, wide chest.

His voice rumbled through the hot, stirring air.

"Yes, Miz," he nodded once, staying in his place about one and a half meter away from us, a large, looming shadow in the fierce glaring sun, "Me mum's one of dem swamp witches, near up over at Florida." His blue eyes were emotionless; it was like I was staring at a statue or something, at a painting of the man itself, etched out across a canvas in royal colours. After all, it was gone-the usual cheer, the usual comforting positivenes, the usual politeness…

All the things that made Lestrade himself had disappeared, leaving behind a unfamiliar mask of a man, a man I didn't know at all.

_A mask he only wore around me._

Not for the first time, I felt my infuriation bloom within me like the opening maw of a churning storm; it was just so _annoying_, the way everyone was treating me about this whole siren incident. So bloody annoying, so unnerving…

_Why do I even put up with people like this?_

Scarlett cleared her throat.

Holding my plate with a single hand, the other grasping tightly onto the wooden barrier beneath me, I spoke again, blinking out of my silent ranting with a quick _snap._

"Good…" I let my voice trail as I forced my eyes to stare up at Lestrade's face, my stomach lurching about with the golden sea, "Good…then you know about the Gods?"

Lestrade refused to meet my eye.

A man shouted from one of the other ships.

Scarlett sighed.

"Yes Miz," One of Lestrade's thin, hairless eyebrow snaked upwards, a curious quirk touching his face-the first trace of emotion I had seen in him in a while, "Like I said….me mum…me mum thought me every' thing I know'm."

My insides boiled like leeching fire.

"Good…then you know about Balder?"

"Well-"

"Do you?"

For a moment, it looked like Lestrade had no idea what to say; he just stood there, his large, red arms folded across his white chest, his eyebrow arched high above his clean, shaven head. Blue eyes glinted sharply as his shadow loomed just before our feet; for a moment, I wished I could jump off my perch and take cover in Lestrade's shadow, hiding from the sun's glare in the giant, dark patch.

_A perfect place for a nap, I would think._

Scarlett had already begun to eat beside me.

"Balder, Miz?"

"Yup."

"_De _Balder?"

"Do you know any other?"

"Nome, Miz. Nome..it's just…" His face finally began to move again, to work as a stroke of curiosity picked at his tough, red skin, widening his eyes a little and working about his thin, colourless lips, "It's just…I don't remember tellin' yer or Mizter Wolfe any'thing 'bout Balder."

"It wasn't you."

"Oh? Who then?"

"Circe, of course."

For a moment, no one said a word.

And then, Lestrade's face hardened all over again.

_Great._

_Back to square one._

My insides churned like a swirling storm; his lips pulled back into a straight line, his neck inclining as he observed me with a pointed, lifted chin. His large, red arms fell to his side as he proceeded to stand attention, tendons and veins pulling to a tight strain all over his body. Blue eyes flashed like passing storms.

He was back to a hard, cold painting of the ordinary self.

_With a little more edge this time, I would say._

My blood rushed like fire.

"Circe?"

"Yes, Circe," a touch of annoyance entered my voice as I gazed upwards towards the large man, trying to catch his blue-quick gaze but failing dramatically, "I learned it from Circe. Big deal-now are you going to answer my questions or not?"

"No."

It was as simple as that.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring up at the giant man with raised eyebrows, my hands tight around the warm metal edge of the plate. Sweat dripped down my back, itching over my bothered skin as the hot wind rustled against me from the bright sea; helplessly, my eyes widened, my lips parting slightly as I stared up at the man.

My heart danced like a leaping, flaming pyre.

Off to the side, the group of men were laughing again, their rich sound running high through the air.

Scarlett took in a deep breath.

"_What_?"

"Yer heard me," there wasn't even a semblance of life, his voice adopting a monotonous, emotionless tune, his face as if carved of the finest stone, "I refuse to help yer."

His lips barely moved.

My heart heaved with budding frustration.

My tongue went dry.

_I want to kill someone._

_NOW._

"Why?" I let the words slip out of me easily enough, my gnawed fingers holding on to the laden plate as my eyes glared upwards at the dark, stiff shadow, "Why not?"

He wasn't even moving.

My teeth were gritting.

His voice betrayed not a single hint of human emotion.

"I refuse to have anything to do with dem witch."

"Circe?"

"Aye."

Whatever façade of politeness, of pure courtesy Lestrade had before was completely gone; his eyes were like chips of the purest diamonds, tempests roaring about in those swirling blue, sparking out of his red, gleaming face. His large, muscular shoulders were completely squared, his chin held high in the air. Not an emotion inched across his face, not a trace; he just watched me with a cool, immobile air, every part of him as dead as he should have been.

Completely and utterly dead.

The muscles in my jaw were beginning to work again, knotting together, pulling hard.

Anger clenched over my heart.

_I'm so sick of this._

_So bloody sick._

"Lessie, I've done nothing to offend you."

"Safe bringing dat mons'ter on board."

"You…you, of all people, know that we _had _to do it. You knew we had…_I _had to bring her on board. I mean, the map-"

"Dat I understand."

"Then-"

"Yer dink we're fools, Miz?" no emotions, no anything as he spoke, his accented voice completely calm and serious, "Yer dink me and de men are dumb? We weren't born yester'year Miz-"

"Lessie, I don't-"

"Ye may have de Cap'tain fooled, and de other Cap'tains as well…but yer ain't got me. Ye ain't got de men."

Now, I was confused.

"What are you talk-"

"Ye killed de siren," his voice was dead, everything about him completely and utterly dead, "Ye, a simple lass, killed a siren. _A siren_-de yer dink dat we all are dumb enough to believe dat it was pure luck?"

_So much for Will's theory._

Scarlett was utterly silent beside me.

The warm wind rustled in my ear.

Lestrade barely moved.

"For the love-"

"Yer bring aboard dis mons'ter, dis demon, controlling her as if she were yer pet."

"I don't recall any-"

"Yer defend her, as if she were yer kin-"

"Lis-"

"Ye came out of no'where…from no'where at all-"

"Would you ple-"

"Ye find de Cap'tain's chest, though no one knew where Miz Swann hid it..."

"Lessie, please-"

" Yer speak fun'nie, yer act fun'nie…her definitely not from Eng'land at-"

"Lessie-"

"We know what yer are."

That did it.

That shut me up.

For a moment, I could nothing but stare up at the older man, my lips parted, my eyes wide like giant, brown orbs. The plate was heavy on my lap; it was as if time had frozen in place, the waves rolling to silence, the voices lulling to a soft melody. The hot, heated wind stopped breathing altogether; I just sat there, staring up at the still, lifeless face that was Lestrade.

Lifeless and deceased.

A chill crept up my spine.

_Fuck._

Lestrade didn't know about Jared and I were from the future, right? I mean, he knew about Scarlett's origin'-everyone on board did.

But did he know about Jared and I?

After all, the only people that I knew _knew _about our hometown was Will, Bootstrap, maybe Circe, probably Sparrow…

_Which reminds me; I have to get Sparrow on that one._

But what about this whole Balder nonsense? Did Lestrade know anything about that?

Logic pointed otherwise, but still….

_Who knew what?_

On front of me, framed against the golden, awful sunlight, skin red as cinders, Lestrade just stared, his face completely devoid of any emotions or life.

Like a wooden puppet, standing on its feet, the strings snapped away.

My blood rushed about in my head.

A low humming filled my ears.

Scarlett shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" I let the whisper inch out softly, my voice croaking slightly, "What am I, Lestrade?"

The muggy wind patted softer now.

My heart thumped slowly.

_What were the consequences, really, if Lestrade found out?_

_What could possibly happen if he-and the crew eventually- found out that Jared and I were from the future?_

_What about the Balder's heir part-why the hell am I even keeping that a secret from everyone, safe Scarlett, for?_

_What's the problem?_

Lestrade's voice was completely and utterly dead.

"A demon."

With that, he stalked away, his booted feet slamming down against the wood like loud, thick _bangs. _His thick, black shadow stretched against the golden panes as he moved on without a word, his thick back silent, his shoulders squared.

Voices lulled back to life.

The wind sang again.

Lestrade walked away.

My mind was numb as ice.

"GET LOST, YOU SUPERSTICIOUS FREAK!"

"Joanna!"

"What? I'm saving us some cred here, dude-THAT'S RIGHT! RUN, YOU FUCKING PRIMATE! RUN!"

"Joanna May Wolfe!"

"Don't use my name, bitch! I'm just protecting our honour!"

"You can't just insult people like that, Joanna, no matter how much they have insulted you-"

"He called a demon!"

"And he had every right-"

"HEY!"

"…they're pirates, Joanna! It's in their nature to be superstitious, especially when they know nothing about anything-and if it means explaining the mystery behind you and your deeds by allying you with hell, then so be it!"

"You wouldn't be saying that if they were calling _you _a demon."

"I would keep my head, like a good Lady of-"

"Would you cut it out with this superficial act-"

"I am not superficial!"

"Suuurrre…just like how you're _not _in love with Jared…."

"Oh, would you quit that? Pick on someone your own size, for a chance!"

"But there _is _no one my size around here! I mean, look-everyone on board these ships are male, smelly, rude, coarse, perverse, stupid, drunk-"

"Except for the first one, I think you just might fit in."

" _Shut up, Scarlett_…"

"And keep it up, and I _will _start picking on you about Will-"

"There's nothing to pick about-"

"…and how the two of you are complete _idiots_-"

"I'm not the idiot! HE IS!"

"…and though it's so _obvious_ that he's in love with you-"

"He's not in love with me, you moron!"

"Of course he is-"

"He's in love with Elizabeth, has been and always will-"

"If you believe that, then you truly are an _idiot-_"

"SHUT-"

"Would yer two keep it down already?"

I almost fell off my perch.

Standing there, looking at us with a quirked eyebrow and an irritated scowl was Sparrow, his Indian ink eyes staring up at us with a twitch of pure annoyance. His straggly, black moustache was plastered down by sweat, the silvery droplets glistening in the horrid, blistering golden light like gleaming diamonds of bright among a nest of black straw. Up above, beyond his black, black eyes rested his trademark hat, the oblong shape twisting a dark shadow over the top of his face. Beads of sweat, crystal-like, shimmered all over his face as his wrinkles creased and uncreased, his orange skin taking on a more reddish hue. Black dreadlocks, beaded and clumped, trailed down from his hat like ugly cascade; they flew about the sultry wind in a complete mess, splashing across his crooked lips and broad shoulders. His hands rested on his hips, angled perfectly. His rapier gleamed quietly at his holster.

It was as if the intense heat, the extreme light had wrung out all good humour from him.

_And after Lestrade…I suppose everyone was._

Scarlett let out a deep, unforgiving sigh.

"What?" I snapped rudely down at him, holding tightly onto the metal plate as I glared with all my strength, all my frustration and anger now focused entirely on him. My heels were beginning to drum again.

My fingers felt like they were burning.

The wind sang.

"Yer noisy," a deep growl seem to set down in his throat, his odd lips pulling harder beneath his black caterpillar, "Yer both are-why do wo'men always have to be so noisy?"

"'Cause we've a lot to talk about."

"Of course yer do…like dresses, and shoes, and fans, and gloves-"

It was my turn to growl.

"Your chauvinistic manner is getting on my nerves."

"And yer stupid nature, on mine."

Anger was seizing me again; with an obvious snarl, I squeezed the plate between my hands, glaring down at the frowning Captain with all my might. My blood was rushing all over again, clouding over the voices and howling, hot wind with a low, dull buzz; not for the first time, I wanted to jump forward and wring the man's filthy neck, squeezing the very life right out of him.

Of course, if that didn't work, I'll just stick him with my blade.

And take back my jewels.

_Screw last night._

With a sharp intake of breath, I opened my mouth-geared to spit out all the vulgarities I knew-but Sparrow interrupted me anyway, his voice rich with pure exasperation.

"Don't yer even start, luv. Don't yer even open yer mouth-Will's be wanting us."

**TA-DA!  
END OF CHAPTER!**

**Anyway, in case anyone's wondering how to pronounce Balder…well…it's said as BAL-DUH.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys, and I will try my very best to keep up with the story and update quickly! See you soon!**

**P.S. HEY CARMEN!**

**X0X0**


	36. Affairs in the Dungeons

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Really appreciate it! **

**Now, moving on to the story….**

**Chapter 34: Affairs in the dungeons**

"Ok, which genius made the dungeons our new meeting place?"

At the other end of the semi-circle, leaning silently against the cold metal bars with arms folded casually across his chest, Will answered me, his voice rolling about like a tumbling, white wave.

"I did not want to inconvenience Circe," was all he said as he stared calmly down at me, boredom splaying about his handsome face like thick paint over fresh canvas; for once, Will's hair was a resemblance of neatness, his thick, luscious brown curls held back in a limp ponytail. Loose brown ringlets framed his face away, trailing about his sharp bones like swirls of russet paint. Sweat gleamed about his features like glittering, brilliant diamonds; sweat, like blobs of silver, dotted his snaky moustache like stars winking through a black night. The sliver of chest, of bronzed skin down his deep collar, glistened like a polished tan, almost as bright as the gold medallion that hung around his neck. The red cloth of his blouse stuck on his skin, carving out the muscles where his black tailored coat did not cover.

How the man could wear a jacket in this weather was beyond me.

Then again, so was everything else.

_Just being here, in the same room as him…_

His dark eyes studied me without a word, looking through my body, my soul.

His beautiful, celestial dark eyes.

_Someone kill me already._

I cleared my throat.

"More like you didn't want a crazy witch stalking about your ship," was my own reply as I stared right back at him, twiddling my thumbs on my lap as I used all of my energy, all of my strength to meet his stirring, fiery eyes. It was hard, that I can safely say; every time I looked at him, every time I allowed myself to dive into those dark, deep pools…

_Stop looking, Joey._

_Stop looking at him._

Will's voice came out as a drawl.

"No…." he let his voice trail as he held his gaze on me, a look of pure boredom playing about his features like light over shadow, "I just wanted Circe to feel comfortable-"

"Oh?" an eyebrow helplessly quirked upwards, my back leaning hard against the cold, slimy wall as my feet tapped away against the wooden boards, "You want her to feel comfortable, Will? Here's one: GET-HER-A-ROOM."

"We've been through this-"

"Clearly not as much-"

"Circe's most comfortable down here, with-"

"You mean your men-"

"You know," Sparrow's sultry voice cut me off, seeping into the air like a warm, comforting breeze, "One's beginning to wonder if dis argument is really about our guest's living quarters, or yer little love fest."

With a snap of my head and a flick of damp curls, I turned towards Sparrow, pulling my eyes off Will with much relief; beside me, leg leaning against my barrel and against me, Captain Jack Sparrow stood like a tall pinnacle, a mountain of a man from this diminutive height down on this barrel. A tall, shadowy mountain of a man; the gloom of the dungeons surrounded him on all corners, casting wayward, giddy shadows all about his dark face. Piercing kohl-rimmed eyes, like jewels of the night, gleamed from beneath the shadows of his large hat, bright and transcendent in the quavering, rocking shade. Lean brown fingers, quick and clever, played about the reddish cloth strapped about his waist, whirling it about and about like a fast, never-stopping windmill. A bored line crooked across his lips.

The side of his fucking thigh was pressing against me.

_If this was some sort of sick attempt to get me attracted to him…_

"Shut up, moron," I replied sourly as a deep scowl, deeper then before, pulled at the corners of my lips, the edges of my eyes wrinkling into tiny squints, "It's not an argument. It's a discussion-"

"Aye, a discussion, " Barbossa's cracking voice filled the dank, cold air, like a fist punching through a large plank of hard, oiled wood, "Something we all should be havin' right about now."

I had almost forgotten about him.

Directly opposite Will, his arm leaning against the horrid, bitter bars and his large, feathery black hat pressing through the gaps, Captain Hector Barbossa stood in his usual pose, cold yellow eyes rimmed with the bleak, grey shadows; nothing ever really changed about the man, from his curly greying hair to his elaborate, embellished leather coat and its glistening silver buttons. His saggy, rough skin was pulled red and sleek, his bulbous nose like a glowing ruby in the shivering, glimmering gloom. His cat eyes were pulled into flat slits, his fat lips in a straight line; a look of pure boredom seem to splay about the older man's face as he leaned against the prison bars, his boots tilted off to the side. At his shoulder, Little Jack perched silently, his black beady eyes staring through the slimy metal bars, wide and quiet.

Utterly still.

Despite the lack of windows or doors, the dungeons were, for some arcane reason, bright enough for us all; there was no need for lamps, or candles…

Just a good supply of common sense.

Which we all lacked, apparently.

A sigh seeped out of my lips.

"That's it," I lazily gazed up at the older pirate, my back stretching backwards against the black, slimy wall, "That's the thing-what discussion?" As I spoke, I slowly rose my foot, crossing the pants-clad calf over my other knee; beneath me, the rain barrel groaned under my weight, like a soft moaning of a rusty hinge or a hungry dog. The wood beneath my remaining foot was hard and steady as rock.

_Now that I think about it, if someone was to punch a hole into the wall right now…_

_Well…_

_We would all probably sink._

Barbossa spoke in his cracking, rumbling voice again.

"Well, we were talkin' about what to do next, an' wh-"

"Yes, yes…" I rolled my eyes helplessly, leaning farther back against the cold, icky walls, "But what's has this got to do with _me_? Why do _I _have to be here?"

"Well, 'cause-"

"De luv does have a point, Hector," Sparrow said simply enough beside me, his beaded black beard bobbing with his rampant words directly above me as his kohl-rimmed eyes widened with a comical glint, "She's got nothin' to do with anythin'…She ain't important-her brother ain't even here-"

"What does my brother have to do with anything?"

"Well, he's always around with-"

"Doesn't mean anything, really-"

"Of course it does!" Dark eyes, like orbs of endless night, stared downwards at me as the pirate twisted about in his usual, odd manner, his thin lips cocking its iconic smile as a coy, rough hand casually trailed through the air and by my curls, "Yer brother's like a little soldier, eh? He goes wherever yer go, talks whenever yer talk-"

"He's just a busybody-"

"Or dat he's protective of yer, eh savvy?"

"Give me a break," I let a frown settle on my lips, my eyes hard as I glared up at the smirking, handsome pirate, letting his large hand rest on my shoulder without resistance, "Jared's as protective as you are honest."

"Yer insult me, luv. I'm an honest man."

"Please…you're a pirate."

Before I could even think anymore, Sparrow's large, leathery hand rose up from my shoulder and through my loose curls, up all the way towards my head; without a word, he patted heavily down on my skull, his large palm cupping over my bandana-clad head and pressing down on the red cloth. Loud _bangs_ filled my eardrums as Sparrow gleefully patted me like a dog, a silly grin splaying about his bobbing, gleaming face as the dark, shadowy world wobbled about without any sense of focus. His thick, slurry voice was rich with amusement.

Little Jack howled in the background.

The world shook and shivered

"I have a feeling, luv, dat dis is a start of something beautiful," He seemed to chuckle as his beady black eyes gleamed down at me, a smirk of pure mirth dancing about his shadowy face. His hand was as heavy as lead, each pat like a resounding, painful slap to my skull; with a dark scowl, I reached upwards and swatted away his hand, freeing my scalp from the torment. A loud _whack _filled the cold, clammy air as my skin stung against his, his body leaping back automatically as I slapped his hand completely away. A small, instinctive whimper croaked beneath his throat; a whimper no one could hear, no one save me.

_Good enough._

With an orbital roll of my eyes, I frowned up at him, straining the tired, sun-streaked muscles of my face.

"You forget idiot," my muscles twitched slightly as I glared upwards at the pirate, ignoring everyone else in the room as my eyes met those glinting, winking black orbs, "You…tried…to…kill…me…and it's something I'm never going to forget."

"Awww, luv. It was just procedure-"

"Procedure to throw three defenceless kids into a open sea, dead in the night?"

"Why on earth do yer keep harping on dat, luv? It's long gone-"

"Well, it was rotten first impression-"

"First impressions never last, luv."

"Not in my world, pal…where I come-"

"_Dis _is why I didn't want her here," Barbossa's voice broke through mine, like a hammer slamming through a pane of frosted glass, "Can't yer see dat now?" From our post, side my side directly opposite the metal bars, Sparrow and I broke our conversation, turning our attention away from one another; instead, our heads swivelled off to the left, towards the lean, wooden statue that was Barbossa. Our words hung fresh in the soggy air, sweat creeping across skin; in front of us, opposite a silent Will, Barbossa was looking away from us, his cat eyes glaring through the iron, rusting bars. A gnarled hand hooked around one cold, cylinder bar silently, dirty yellow nails biting down against the greenish-red metal. His greying beard leaped with shadows.

Little Jack was quiet at his shoulder.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Not a word.

Then…

"She's more important then you make her to be, Hector."

It was a soft voice, like the crooning of birds or the gentle whispering of the wind; it slithered through the chilling air without a hint, murmuring like a sweet song, calling like a cooling breeze. A sense of calm, a taste of peace radiated from the voice in gentle lengths, like old waves licking against pearl white sands or clouds swimming slowly across the sun. A thrilling chill leapt through my heart.

_Circe._

_How could I have forgotten about Circe?_

She sat there, behind the cold bars, upon her royal red cot like an empresses of some distant past; as usual, the demi-goddess looked like a regal queen, her dark curls tumbling down her shoulders, careless and free. Black like midnight they were, corkscrews of never-ending dusk trailing about her blue-clad shoulders like night against day. They framed her face perfectly-though there was no light, no light source at all, the ageless witch could be seen perfectly enough, her fine jaw firm and her rich brown skin radiant in the black-grey gloom. Thick lips, red like blooming tulips, were pulled into a straight, simple line, the metal bars stacking away her ethereal face, boxing them in parts. Her back was rigid, her shoulders squared against the black wooden wall; like a painting, or a perfect sculpture, Circe sat silently on the crimson folds, her delicate hands neating over one another on her smooth, cerulean lap. Glowing black eyes, like flashing, burning coals, stared straight in front of her, emotionless and dead.

Not a single emotion traced across her features.

She was staring straight at me.

_Great…_

Beside me, Sparrow's hand sank back down to my shoulder, like a slab of concrete pressing down on my bones.

Will's back was against the metal bars, his head tilting backwards so as to peer sidelong at the silent, still demi-goddess.

His arms were folded loosely across his chest, his boots pointing upwards.

He was completely ignoring me.

_Great._

Barbossa was speaking again.

"Perhaps," a small grimace, like flickering light in the gloom, slowly bloomed across his face, his wrinkled hand grasping the metal bars tightly as the other stroked Little Jack's wispy tail, " But she's _annoying._ Ever single time-"

"I want her here."

"…whenever de child comes-"

"I'M NOT A CHILD, YOU FU-"

" I _want_-"

"…dese two _morons_ would come around an' act as if she were some sort of new toy dat-"

"Joey is _not _a toy, Barbossa. She's a human being."

"A human being dat have both you and Jack over there panting over like a bunch of dogs."

At his post, leaning against the metal bars with a twinge of aloofness in his features, Will almost doubled over; at Barbossa's response to his reasonable, calm statement about me, Will's cheeks burst in flames, the tips of his ears igniting in a wondrous shade of pulsing red. His dark brown eyes leaped up in dancing fire, his back starting upwards as if someone had pricked his spine with a sharp, bloody needle; for a quick moment, those startled beautiful eyes hurdled through the darkness, and towards me, his entire face a giant blossom of brilliant red. Pure embarrassment washed over his features like a rushing tide, engulfing all other thought and emotion.

_Oh crap._

On my seat, upon the rain barrel, I found my eyes tracing down towards my lap, fire heating up through my body, dancing about my face. Every part of me, every inch, itched to jump up and walked away, to run away from all of them, from him…

_Stop it._

_Stop being such an idiot._

Beside me, standing like a tall pinnacle, Sparrow just chuckled, his low voice rumbling through the dark, dingy corridors.

A rat squeaked somewhere in the corner.

_Thanks, God._

_Really._

My heart felt as if it had fallen through a black, black hole.

For a moment, no one spoke as I just studied my lap, carving out each lines, each detail of my knitted hands. My cheeks seem to dance and toast with raw, burning flames; at the edge of my clouded vision, Will's boots danced about in a fidgety manner, the tough leather soles skidding against the black wooden floor. Barbossa's, on the other hand, was utterly still.

Sparrow was still chuckling.

My throat felt constricted.

Finally, Circe broke through the silence, her voice like the gentle trickling of cool water shivering down a low cliff.

"Very well, now that've we enjoyed a respectable amount of awkward silence-"

"Can I go now?" I practically whined as I threw my head up again, ignoring the other three men as I gazed solely and entirely on the silent witch behind the metal bars, "I haven't eaten my lunch yet, and since Jared's all missing now, Scarlett's probably hiding in some corner a-"

"Yer brother is missing?" Barbossa cut through my sentence, casting his bored, yellow eyes back towards me; at his shoulder, Little Jack was just staring over at Circe, his tiny, adorable head pressed through the metal bars, beady black eyes silent and still. Sparrow was swinging his red-white cloth by my head again, ruffling my hair as his lanky palm drummed against my shoulder. Will was still red as a plum.

My palms were awfully sweaty.

My heart was dancing an odd jig.

"Well," I sighed helplessly as my eyes met with cat, yellow-rimmed ones, "Sort of…neither Scarlett or I have seen him since morning now-"

"Can we please get back to the subject at hand?" Will's voice resounded through the foul, chilling air as his shouted loud enough, smashing through my sentence yet again with shivering, odd _dings_, "We're completely off-topic here!" His face was still a blooming red-dark curls, like trinkets of russet, bounced by his sweat-lined face as he yelled out into the dark corridors, his voice echoing about as his beautiful eyes widened to a comical degree. Red fused the tips of his ears; there was something adorable about it, about the way he was blushing like that…

That is, if he _was_ actually blushing.

_Don't be a moron, Joey. _

Sparrow's stupid sashay hit against the side of my head.

"Which is what, exactly?" I found my voice, drawing attention back towards me again, my hands knitting together in a tight, ceaseless knot, "Why _are _we here? _Down _here?"

"To talk about de path ahead, lass," Barbossa answered me, a finger stroking Little Jack's furry back while his other hand ran up and down a cold, slimy metal bar, "We all need to talk about what lies ahead, about de way to de Fountain-"

"Yes, yes…but what does it have to do with _me_?"

"Well, for some odd reason, Lil…I mean…Circe over here wanted you to be-"

"But _why_?"

"Quit it, Joey," Will's answered out of turn, just as Barbossa was opening his dry, cracking mouth to answer him, his yellow eyes swivelling over towards the younger, undead captain, "The world doesn't revolve around you. We have a more important matter to discuss, more important then _why _you're here with us in the first place." The colour had left his place; during the short exchange between Barbossa and I, Will had somehow pulled himself back together, the wondrous red fading away from his cheeks and ears. His dark brown eyes, shadowy in the gloom, had returned back to its original size; in a matter of seconds, Captain William Turner had gone back to his cool, detached manner, his back leaning once again against the cold metal bars. His arms pulled themselves back across his chest.

His boots still fidgeted about though.

And he wouldn't meet my eyes.

_His ears were kind of pink…_

Sparrow's palm was drumming some odd, offbeat tune on my shoulder.

His stupid scarf was winding my hair about.

"Fine," I stared up at him with gritted teeth, though the man before me, this great undead captain was gazing away from me, eyes angled towards Barbossa opposite him with dancing boots, "Fine. Then, I'll just leave-"

"Stay, Joey."

I think we had all forgotten Circe was even there; with soft gasps, we all turned around, back toward the woman trapped behind those cold bars, still and perfect. She just sat there, staring at us with a cool, emotionless expression splaying about her features. Granite eyes, cold and hard, gazed out at us without a single thought.

A chill crept up my spine as our eyes met through the gloom, her silent figure barred away behind the prison door.

Sparrow's hand went cold at my shoulder.

Little Jack whimpered.

"Fine," I let my voice flow out smoothly, the chill creeping all over my skin and clenching my heart as all my attention, all my focus gathered upon those eerie stone eyes, "Fine. I'll…I'll stay…but why _are _we here, anyway?"

"To talk about what lies ahead."

"Which is?"

For the first time in a while, Circe breathed out a deep sigh, fluttering those awful, dead eyes with her luscious black eyelashes. Muscles stirred in her face as the sigh rippled through her body, like a streaming tide; all around me, the 3 pirates were utterly silent, their breaths measured and their voices gone. Little Jack was whimpering in low undertones.

It was as if Sparrow had stopped breathing entirely.

Will was near invisible.

"Well," Circe's black, black eyes fluttered open again, those lifeless orbs staring through the shadowy, grey bars again as her blue chest heaved slowly, "There's…What you _must _understand, Joey, gentlemen, is that I have a limit to what I see. All that I perceive, all that I see-"

"See? See what, exactly?"

"In this case, the future, little one. I can see the future, among other things-though it's so…limited. My vision, my _sight_, as you say it, is curbed, restricted-"

"So?"

A smile, the tiniest of smiles touched Circe's lips, her dark eyelashes flickering against her high, prominent cheekbones. Black curls, like twirls of painted oil, stirred slightly against her heaving chest, bobbing up and down with the soft blue silk. Her perfect fingers, long and bony, twitched faintly upon her lap, her shoulder pulling farther back into a straight, hard line. Sparks beamed in those black, black eyes.

_Great._

_She's smiling again._

Sparrow was utterly quiet beside me, his hand like a slab of cold meat.

Little Jack chattered something.

"So?"

"So," there was a slight twitch in her small smile, a strange light blooming in her lifeless, stone eyes as her trickling, odd voice spoke slowly and calmly, "It…It is my sight, little one, that is pointing the way. My ability to see the future, to perceive the things that are to come, is the one reason why my name is on that map."

"I don't-" Barbossa began, breaking in with his voice, but Circe cut him clean off, her smooth, wondrous voice overwhelming his like a breath of spring.

"I see the path, gentlemen, little one. I can see the way you must go, the way you three must lead in order to reach the Fountain of Youth, and hence, immortality. Of course, Captain Turner, it is mortality that you will find under my instruction."

"So," Will spoke now, leaning against the metal bars and looking over at Circe from a half-angle, his arm pressed against the rusting iron, his dark curls shivering in the shadows along with his gleaming eyes, "You _do _know the way."

"Yes, Captain. I do."

"All the way?"

"No," Black curls, like turrets of swirling midnight, bounced gently as the ethereal demi-goddess shook her head, her eyes fluttering slightly as cold, granite eyes stared at me, and only at me, "Like…Like I said, gentlemen, little one, I can only see _some_ part of the way, not all of it. Not now, anyway."

"So, you only know how to lead us half of dem way, den," Barbossa concluded, his thick lips still drawn across in a bitter, straight line, yellow eyes like lifeless slits as he mimicked Will's exact pose directly opposite him, "You don't know de _whole _path."

"Not yet…it will come to me, eventually. In time, I will see all the way before us, like how I see the nearer future right now."

_Huh?_

"Nay…I don't quite…how-"

"Please, Hector. Don't question things that you are much better off never knowing about."

For a moment, no one said a word as our thoughts fuelled about in our heads, our eyes glazed over as the silence took control yet again. Barbossa's large, knitted hat pressed hard against the bars, Little Jack taking shelter in its black shade; opposite him, Will stood in his exact pose, quiet with thought, brow furrowed in concentration. His dark brown eyes stared silently at his metal boots as his voice kept silent, a hand propped up against his belt as dark curls shivered; a part of me, a strong, undeniable part of me wanted to stand up, reach forward and touch him, to trace my fingers along that firm jaw, to whisper sweet nothings into his ear. I wanted to stare at him again, to gaze deep into those innocent, dark eyes, to drown in those stirring pools…

A pull, a horrid, dreadful pull tugged at my heart as I watched him silently, pulling me deep down into the black darkness.

_Will._

It was as if someone, _something_, was eating me from the inside, gnawing through my flesh and bones.

_I'm so pathetic._

"All those years," Barbossa's trailing voice brought me back into the gloomy, chilling dungeons, snapping me out of my foggy daydream and pulling my eyes back towards him again, "All those unforgettable years…how on earth did yer hid it all from us, Circe?"

_Huh?_

Both Jacks were utterly silent.

As a line formed upon my brow, curiosity gnashing, Circe spoke in reply, her voice like a whispering mist, slithering through an ancient, teeming jungle.

"It wasn't that hard," the smile on her lips, the small, barely-there smile was beginning to widen, the strange spark in her ice, dead eyes brightening like a living flare, "the lot of you weren't very bright."

"Aye, perhaps we-"

"Wait," Will interrupted them again, raising a hand to stop the train of conversation, his crisp accent filling the damp air as the beads of sweat in his moustache glimmered in the non-existent light, "We're going off topic here. Again-aren't we suppose to be discussing about what lies ahead of us?"

"Aye, Turner, but less me be mistaken, we're already done."

"Done?" his hand swung back, hooking onto the belt beneath his leather coat again, his brown eyes wide as his arms pressed harder against the metal bars, "_Done_? We haven't learned anything yet."

"Perhaps hence 'cause there's nothing to learn, lad! Like Circe said, she hasn't seen-"

"Actually," Circe smooth, unblemished voice filtered through the chilling air, snapping Barbossa's and Will's conversation strand with a light lilting to a melody, "I said that I haven't seen all of the path, of the trail to the Fountain of Youth. I haven't seen everything…though that doesn't mean I've seen nothing at all."

"What?" It was the first time I had spoken in a while, and with a slight annoyed ring to it too. My features slowly crumbled together with irritation; after all, this was all becoming some mindless chatter, the topic losing itself over and over again. Nothing was making sense, not as clearly as before anyway; I still couldn't see _why _I was being tortured, _why_ I had to be here, instead of walking about in the glorious afternoon light, talking frivolously with Scarlett-

_Maybe this isn't so bad after all._

The clammy, sickly air in here though was making things quiet unnerving.

"What do you mean?" Will quirked his eyebrows a little, leaning more against the bars as his head swivelled over to stare into the cell, and right at Circe; was it me or did Will never turn to look fully at Circe? Was it only my imagination that he didn't face the prison cell face-first, but only by the side with an arm leaning against the bars?

Like he was afraid to have direct eye contact with that witch or something?

Then again, looking at those dead, soulless eyes…

_I don't blame him._

Beside me, hand still on my shoulder, Sparrow showed no sign of life, his face lost in the shivering gloom.

His hand felt like dead meat.

Little Jack muttered a soft, barely audible squeal.

Circe sighed again.

"It's quiet trying, talking to you mortals sometime," a hand reached up to pat at her brow, padding off any sweat as her dark eyelashes fluttered shut again, "You never quite keep up."

"Circe, I don't-"

"In 2 days time," her eyes were like block of pure rock as she gazed up at us again, her cold, emotionless orbs staring straight at me, the small smile on her lips fading away into the shadowy oblivion all around, "you, gentlemen and my little one, will come upon the first of the two obstacles. That is, of course, if you keep west."

"Obstacles?" Barbossa voiced, arching a grey, thin eyebrow above one of his slit-yellow eyes. His red skin glistened with little droplets; at his shoulder, Little Jack pawed about at his gangly, messy brown hair, beady black eyes piercing through the bars with a quiet remorse. His black-and-white tail whipped through the tail.

Will kept his silence this time.

Sparrow was as usual.

"Yes. Obstacles…you really didn't expect to just find me, and then sail happily towards the Fountain of Youth just like that, did you?"

"Well, no-"

"What you talking about?" I myself quirked an eyebrow as I pulled my leg closer towards my chest, pressing a free hand down against the rain barrel beneath me, "We trekked through a thick, annoying jungle, seeking an all-powerful witch-"

"I'm not that powerful, little one."

"…only to find out that she's been grounded my dear old mummy and her menacing threesome of sirens, and that the only way to free the witch was to kill a siren-"

"Actually, no one said anything about killing sirens. You were, after all, only meant to scare them a-"

"Joey's a child," Will decided to add his bit in just as I left my mouth hanging open, letting my last word echo along with Circe's trail, "How on earth did you expect _her _to scare-"

"You would think," I stared straight at Circe, completely ignoring Will's intrusive voice as I raised a single eyebrow at her, my eyes meeting hers despite the itch at the back of my throat, "that _all _of that would be an obstacle enough."

Off to the right, at the bars, Will sighed, snapping his jaw shut at the very moment I cut him out of the conversation. A sigh rattled through his weatherworn body, his muscles stretching beneath tanned skin; for a moment, at the corner of my eyes, I caught a flicker of a gaze in my direction, soulful brown orbs burrowing towards me.

And then, he was side longing at Circe again.

_This is all so bloody-_

"The price of immortality is high, little one," Circe said simply enough as she matched my stare with her own icy one, her lips pursed slightly against her liquid-smooth, brown face, "Something as simple as freeing me from the island is not quite enough."

"It's enough for me."

"What about these obstacles, though?" Barbossa spoke again, his voice splintering through the air like an axe smashing its thick blade through the thick trunk of a tree, "What exactly are they?"

"I don't know."

Finally, I was the one to sigh, letting the deep breath ripple through my body like a rushing tide, a paling wave flowing gently above dark sand. Sparrow's hand was cold and dead.

"Some good you are."

**8888888888888**

I shouldn't be doing this.

I shouldn't be standing here, in the dark corner by the staircase, peering around the slimy, green edge, hiding in the shadows. I shouldn't be holding my breath, freezing my heart in place as my eyes raked through the darkness, wading blindly about in search for my target. I shouldn't be tasting the foul tang of guilt at the back of my throat, pressing my side against the cold, cold wall as my ears searched out into the abyss, listening to every drip, every drop.

I shouldn't be doing this.

I shouldn't be eavesdropping on Sparrow and Circe.

_Then again, life would be awfully dull if you didn't do the things that you shouldn't do._

Behind me, Will's hot breath whistled against my ear, sliding over my cheek like a warm wave rushing over tired, wet sand.

"You shouldn't be doing this."

"Yup," was my only hushed reply as I stared out into the encroaching, shivering gloom, a hand grabbing onto the slimy edge of the wall, my cheeks grazing against the icky surface; behind me, Will's heat radiated against me in lengths, like a whip torturing my back, relentless and unnerving. His shadow loomed above like a giant shade, pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket; the chill, the familiar chill of the dungeons riched the gloomy air like a stirring breeze, freezing time in its place. Rats skittered and squealed in corners, spicing the dead atmosphere with their frantic screams, their chilling shrieks. The world was calm and steady beneath our feet.

I couldn't even see anything.

Truth be told, I hadn't wanted Will here. It hadn't been part of my plan to have him hulking over my shoulder, breath hot against the nape of my neck, as I spied upon Sparrow and Circe. No, it hadn't been part of the plan at all; after all, when I saw that Sparrow was lagging behind after our little, useless meet earlier on, the simple, impulsive plan was to jump into the dark corner, _by myself_, and see what exactly was going to happen next.

Will joining me was _not _what I had in mind.

Something skittered by my feet.

Everything smelt like cold, old metal.

The world was liquid ink.

Behind me, Will was whispering again, his warm breath kissing against my ears, kicking my heart into overdrive.

"I'm serious, Joey," a sigh, the barest of sighs touched his soft words, like a whisper of a wind, kissing against my ear, "If Jack finds you…us…he'll get mad. Circe might get mad too."

The icky, slimy wall smelt like old cheese.

"Yup."

"You don't care, do you?"

"Nope."

Will just sighed in reply.

For a moment, neither of us spoke as we just stared over the edge of the wall, at the darkness beyond; off to the left, quite near us, the rotting, yellowish-green bars glinted faintly in the darkness, odd shapes, barely discernible in the blackness. Shadows shifted about, like wraiths, lost and lonely; from this dark corner, from this little black chasm, all of the dungeons had plummeted into a darker light, all the faint lines and shapes disappearing into the ink night. The grey gloom was now a shaky black shadow, a murky depth with no shape, no direction. I couldn't even see past the wall before me, couldn't even make out anything past the metal bars-it was nothing more then a sea of shivering darkness, where one could easily get lost in for hours on end.

Of course, only 5 minutes ago, standing before Circe's cell, it hadn't been that bad; just then, I could see everyone else clearly and though everything was grey and bleak and shadowy, I could still actually _see._

But now, in this corner…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

_What a strange place this is, where shadows leap about at their fancy…_

Will was way too close.

"You really shouldn't be doing this, Joey."

"Then go."

Behind me, Will's voice dropped lower as a sound rang dully through the air, through the cold, numbing air- a soft shuffle, down the black corridor. My heart stopped in standstill as I pressed nearer against the wall, the ick pulsing against my cheek as eyes searched helplessly through the darkness. My chest heaved in short, quick breaths, my fingers teething with trembles; as the world stood still, waiting, _waiting_, Will leaned closer in, his voice falling in a raspy, thick tone.

"Why are you eavesdropping anyway?" his breath, his sweet, hot breath tickled against my hair as he pushed himself nearer towards me, his heat increasing with each second, "It's rude. And _wrong._"

"Nobody asked you to tag along, goody-two-shoes."

"But why _are _you doing this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I pressed myself harder against the black wall, trying to pierce through the darkness by squinting my eyes as my heart hammered away in my chest, my voice low in the chilling gloom, "TO GET DIRT." Sweat itched down my back; behind me, Will inched a little closer, his heat slapping against my back, his breath as hot as summer rain against my cheeks and ears.

_He was way too close._

"Dirt?"

"Information, my chipmunk, valuable knowledge, the low down…"

"I don't-"

"Forget it, Will," I whispered with a hint of a sigh, pressing farther against the slimy wall, eyes clawing through the darkness, my every sense awake as I held my breath away, "I just want…I just wanted to…"

For a moment, faint silence filled the metal-tinged air again as my whisper faded into the quiet, the words lost in the dull chatter of rats squirming about; behind me, Will was silent too, each hot breath brushing against the tip of my ear and running through my hair. His strong, relentless heat forced against me like a pushing, hot gale, trapping me against the cold, cold wall. His breath lulled in my ears like a singing melody.

He really was too close.

_Blast it._

For a moment, neither of us spoke as we just stared over the edge of the wall, glaring out into the darkness, ears alert and awake; what was Sparrow doing? After all, I was _pretty _sure he had lingered back after we all had left, wandering about in front of Circe's cell in his odd, flightily manner. I _was_ prettysure he was still there, somewhere in all that gloom, not making a single sound…

_More than the world._

Standing there, blinded in the darkness, Will looming behind without a word, the memory of last night, of the beautiful black skies and the soft moonlight, zapped across my vision, blotting out any remnants of the ink black world and the chilling air; for a moment, I could hear Sparrow's words playing about again, his soft voice whispering out into the darkness as we shared out sleep-stained thoughts. His soft, twisting voice, calm and serene, edged through my memory, filling my world with the slow waking dream of the ethereal, black night before:

_A black world…singing sea…taste of rum mingled with salt…hard black shadow of Sparrow…his calm, tired voice echoing out into the darkness…me asking about Circe, if he loved her….a long sigh, like the wind gliding above clouds…sleep pulling me away…darkness licking at the corners…Sparrow saying yes…_

"What are you thinking about?" Will's murmured calmly, his breath tickling the lobes of my ear and snapping me out of my daydream like a light piercing through a thick wall of fog. A gasp escaped from my lips; ahead of us, around the bend of the black wall and in the middle of all that blackness, something groaned against the hard stable wood, something large and heavy.

Something too big to be a rat.

Behind me, Will sucked in a deep breath.

Silence thumped in my ears.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke as we stood frozen in place, all our senses watching out for the slightest bit of movement. Our breaths caught in our throats.

No one spoke.

_Why are we so high-strung anyway?_

_It's just Sparrow…and Circe…_

_Well, the last part makes sense._

Finally, after several minutes of pure silence, tinged here and there by rats' squabbles, I breathed out again, letting the hot air mirth right against the black, leeching wall.

Will let go as well.

With a fluttering of dark eyelashes, I closed my eyes, letting the sigh ripple through my body with a controlled measure, the slime wetting my palm. My heart thundered about in my ear.

"Nothing," I breathed out softly, staring past the edge of the wall, at the shivering, quavering darkness, "Nothing…I just…something Sparrow said last night, that's all."

"Last night?"

"Yup. Last night."

"Last night."

"Yes, moron. Last night."

"Last night."

"Look, how many times do you want-"

All of a sudden, a hand, a strong, sticky hand, clamped over my mouth, pressing down against my lips with a quick, sudden force. A hard arm squashed against the side of my head, curving around my curls and drawing me back; panic, raw panic exploded within me as the hard hand cut off my train of words, shutting me up completely and holding me tight. My breath lost itself somewhere in the overwhelming darkness.

_What the-_

"Listen," Will's hot breath whistled in my ear as he inched his face right beside mine, his hot hand holding tight over my lips. My breath whimpered within me as my hands retracted back, clawing upward through the never-ending dark; but it was hopeless. Somewhere, looming behind me, chest pressing against my back and hand over lips, Will was as still as a rock, the arm muscles around my head tight and strained. His sweet breath, sweet hot breath, rustled against my cheek like a sharp knife, each pull a terrible pain. My heart thundered beneath his grasp.

_Too close._

_Wayyyyy too close._

That was when I heard it.

Out of the shivering, black gloom, out of all the darkness and quivering shadows, a voice whispered out smoothly, like the sound of a gentle waterfall trickling down onto a stub of heavy rocks.

"…and I suppose you want to talk, Jack?"

It was barely there, a naked, hollow rumour gliding out of the shaky abyss like a breeze breathing out a low sigh. It was nothing more then a shivering murmur; yet, it was there, a soft and beautiful voice lulling out of the shadows like a discerning mist, filling up my world like a gentle wave.

_Circe._

Will's hand tasted of salt.

I held my breath.

Out of the black folds, Sparrow's familiar voice rang out, clear and dissonant like a ringing bell.

"If yer willing," there was no emotion in his voice, no sense of feelings at all; fingers, cold fingers leaped all the way up and began to tug at Will's fierce hand, my eyes snapping about above it. Dark brown orbs tore through the darkness, searching every corner, up and down, for any sign of _human _life.

And demi-goddess.

But there was nothing; there was nothing but the black shade of the world, the shadows pressing in from every direction. No shape, no line, no life…

Will's hand tightened over my lips as I pulled at it, my fingers digging into invisible lines, trying to pry apart his clenching fingers.

His breath was steady against my cheek.

He smelt like the sea.

In front of us, beyond the ragged edge of the black wall, Circe's voice sang out again, her tone carrying a slight lilt.

"Well, there's nothing to talk about. Nothing at all, don't you think?"

"Nay," Sparrow answered her back, bland and focus, not a trait of emotion, "Nay, Circe…we've had much to talk about."

"Oh? Like what, Jack? What exactly do we have to talk about? After all, we haven't seen de likes of each other in over 20-"

"20 years, aye. I know that…I know that well….I've counted every second since…s-since…"

A hand, a warm, comforting hand, grabbed onto the upper part of my left arm, pulling it away as I continued my onslaught against my gag; it was Will, his rough, sea-tanned skin brushing coarsely against my bare arm as he held it tightly, restraining my struggling movements. His fingers dug deep into my skin; a whimper, a muffled whimper moaned out from behind Will's hand as I fought to be freed, but Will's only response was for me to shut it up.

His alluring heat overwhelmed my every sense, my every feeling, my every nerve.

His hand was like fire on my arm.

His dark curls kissed against the side of my head, smelling of fresh salt and the rich sun.

His breath was like a sweet melody.

_Focus, Joey…_

"Since you left me for dead."

Out of the darkness, Sparrow kept his silence, letting Circe's sweet, odd voice echo above the squealing of rats and Will's heavy breathing with a resounding, whispering _ding. _

My insides felt like churned butter.

Will was utterly quiet.

When Sparrow spoke again, it was in a softer tone, so soft that I had to lean forward in Will's grasp, pulling against his hot gag and pressing farther against the wall.

The man resisted like hell.

Sparrow's voice was like a whisper.

" I didn't leave you, Lily," I could barely tell it was him, barely could tell that it was indeed the notorious, disgusting Captain Jack Sparrow that was speaking-so odd was his tone, so foreign that I thought, for a second, that there was another person in the dungeons, "I didn't…I would never leave you."

"Ah, but you did."

"No…No…yer mother…Calypso…she _took _yer-"

"But you didn't stop her."

"An' wat, luv? What was I suppose to do-go against de Goddess of Sea?"

"Yes."

"We're all not as mad as dat Joey."

"No, just not as brave," Circe said simply enough, her voice like gentle snowflakes playing about in the breeze, cool and collected. Not an emotion sang through her odd, magical voice; behind me, enveloping me on either side, Will sucked in a thick breath, leaving my cheek feeling cold and forgotten. His hand tightened on my arm.

Like a beating, toasting flame.

_God…of all things to say, Circe…._

"Yer think goin' up against dem sirens was _brave_?"

"No…fighting, preparing to die, for the man she loves was brave."

_Going…to…kill…Circe…_

"What?" Will whispered in my ear, breath like a flaming torch against my ear, arms tight on me like binding hot iron, "What man-"

I cut Will off with a quick shush, low and quiet in the black world-it was dumb, not that I think about, shushing the man who had his hand over my lips and splattering my oh-so-precious saliva all over his palm. It was completely dumb-I had to do it though, to do _something_ in order to kill the train of conversation and bite down the embarrassment bubbling within me.

_Why though? Will already knows I'm sort of in love with him…well…he knows that I'm _falling _in love with him which is, of course, a completely different thing altogether._

_Or was it?_

_God, I don't know anything anymore…_

And I was missing the rest of the whispered conversation.

"I would have fought for yer too, Lily," Sparrow's voice took on an edge I had never heard before, a softer, almost pleading edge that sounded so strange in his tone, "I would have fought-"

"But you didn't."

"I would have-"

"But you _didn't,_" Circe's voice was still and dead, "You left me, Jack. You left me."

And then, there was silence.

Cold, dead silence.

For a few, long minutes, the world was completely quiet, safe the squabbling rats and the odd sound of wood creaking in odd places. Nothing moved, nothing stirred; behind me, Will was as still as a rock, every part of him hot and alive as a burning, leaping flame. His breath was a stirring, hot breeze against my face, strident and strong- for a moment, I just stood in place, savouring his touch on my lips and arm, eyes searching through the darkness. My heart raced within my chest. My blood pulsed like a rushing brook.

I didn't breathe.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pure, inhumane silence, Will moved; with a deep sigh, he pulled back his hand, freeing my lips of his presence, his smell. The chilling air, the metallic, damp air touched my lips again as his hand pulled back behind him, his arm pulling strands of my hair as it retracted back to his body.

His hand didn't leave my arm though.

My lips were free again.

The darkness didn't move.

With a soft murmur, like the rustling of cloth, Will spoke into my ear, his breath like an appealing scent.

"Shall we go now?"

"No," was my only whispering reply as I stared out into the dark, trying my every best to ignore his grip, to ignore him, as I listened out into the quivering shadows, "Not yet." Nothing moved, nothing squeaked, safe the rats-it was as if there truly was no one there, no Circe, no Sparrow, somewhere in that pool of darkness. My fingers, for some reason, felt like heavy lead as they sank back down to my side, my arm burning beneath Will's hard grip. My insides churned away.

Behind me, just near the edge of my head and with invisible, unseeable curls playing against my ear, Will sighed again, like a sweet song.

"Joey, there's nothing more-"

"What happened to them?"

"What?"

"Sparrow…Circe…"

At my left arm, against my bare skin with a little finger just touching the edge of the yellow cloth, Will loosened his grip, releasing the skin by just a fraction as his hand relaxed slightly.

Blood rushed into that area, like a scourging pulse.

My hair ruffled in his breath.

_He was so warm…_

"It isn't my story to tell, Joey," his whisper like the pulling of the sea wind, warm and strong, sighing out in a low note, "I can't tell you."

"But you know it?"

"Aye…my father told me of it, not too long ago."

"Then why can't you just-"

"Because it's Jack's tale, Joey. He should be the one to tell it."

"But what's it about, Will?"

Will didn't answer.

For a moment, we waited in the silence, bathing in each other's heat; beside me, Will's dark brown curls, nothing at all in the darkness, shivered against my face, grazing against my skin with soft, unnerving kisses. His hand was looser on my arm, releasing and relaxing the muscles, hot as a scorched, red iron against my skin. His breath smelt like a fresh spring of rain.

There was nothing but darkness before us.

Darkness and the rats' squeals.

And Will's breath.

For a moment, neither of us did anything, our eyes trained into the darkness, watching out for any signs of life.

Watching and silent.

And then, Will turned his head towards me.

I felt his curls swing against my skin, dapping against the edge of my bandana as his breath turn to blow directly at me, pressing against my skin like a gushing, hot wave. His body heat was insane-I couldn't think, not a thought, as he turned his eyes down on me, away from the darkness, towards me.

Only me.

His breath was like a lulling song, singing in the midnight gloom in a fresh lullaby.

His hand was like molten lava.

_Oh God…_

Slowly, I turned as well, swinging my head in the dark, towards my left; I couldn't see a thing, not a bloody thing yet I _knew_ he was there, right beside me, gazing down at me through the thick, horrid dark. No lines, no shapes at all; just a strong, wonderful heat, washing over me like thick waves licking against white shores. He smelt like the stirring sea; I stopped moving altogether as my nose, the very tip of it, hit against soft skin, soft burning skin.

_Will…_

My hands moved automatically, rising up slowly as my body pivoted around, my eyes shutting close in the midnight dark. My breath lost itself in my chest; at my arm, Will was helping to turn me around, flexing me around with a strong hand, a strong, scorching hand. His arm rippled against my back; in front of me, behind the pure gloom of my shut eyes, Will sucked in a thick breath, his chest heaving in with an abrupt pull.

My boots helped moved me along.

My heart screamed like a beating gong.

_Stop, Joey._

_Stop it this instant this instant!_

But I couldn't.

In front of me, at the tip of my nose, the rough, burning skin began to slide downwards; it must have been his jaw line, for the skin was covered with coarse stubbles and short hair. Heat slapped against the bridge of my nose; I was burning up, from the inside, from the outside, smouldering in my place like a torching, uncontrollable pyre.

So was Will.

I heard him gasp just by my left ear, his lips grazing against the side of my face, smooth and hot.

His hand kept its hold on me, his arm beginning to stretch forth and wrap around my waist, coiling about my body, pulling me close.

He was burning.

His face was moving in the dark, skin sliding over skin as he grazed his lips across my cheek lightly, leaving a trail of burning fire.

My breath was locked away in my chest, squeezing me tight.

My hands made contact-I didn't know how it got there, but before I knew it, my hands were trailing up his chest, inching forward through the blackness, sliding over the harsh cloth and leather, gliding over his lean muscles.

His dark curls whispered against my face, igniting little dots of flame all about my blooming face.

My heart refused to move.

His other hand touched against my waist, just as his right hand released its hold of my arm, gliding over my bare skin to rest in the centre of my back, a blooming flower of raw, unforgiving heat.

His breath tasted like fresh rain, a hot, swirling rain breathing into my face, against my lips.

My left hand lost itself in the folds of black leather, inching beneath the dark, hard cloth, tracing up his hot, sweaty shoulder.

My right thumb kissed against the bare of his skin.

Our lips met.

For a minute, I didn't know what was happening to me, what was happening to me at all; I just felt Will's lips on me, soft and beautiful, burning like a scorching, boiling kiss of death. His curls murmured and moaned against the sides of my face, my eyelashes fluttering against his hot skin. My hands felt as if they were on fire; before I knew myself, before I knew anything, Will had taken me away, pressing deep into our kiss, burning away.

His lips tasted like sweet rum.

Inside me, deep inside of me, the world was alive, bright and beautiful with so many colours; I opened my mouth, letting him in, giving myself completely, indulging in his sweet, tantalizing taste. My entire body felt as if it were on fire, igniting from my raw centre-Will tasted like every shade of the rainbow, like clear spring water, like a frail moonbeam in the gloomy night.

My heart felt like it could explode.

He drew me close, so close to him, engulfing me, enveloping me with his long, lean arms; we drew into each other, two separate entities letting each other in, giving everything we got. Our fingers left trails of fire over each other's skin, our lips unyielding against one another; passion, the strongest, the most tempest, burst forth from within me as I reached upward and cupped his face, pulling him towards me, fingers splaying out against skin. Our lips melded together, uncontrollable, unyielding.

Unbreakable.

It was then, at the very moment, that I knew the truth.

The real, undoubtedly, undeniable truth.

_I love you._

"What are yer two doin' down here?" Sparrow's voice tore through the wondrous, colourful fog, shattering everything like a hammer against hard, clear glass. My insides jumped in surprise; before I knew it, I had pulled away from Will, leaping away from his hands, his lips, back into the wavering darkness. Coldness pulled me away in its leeching arms, blowing out the roaring fire with a hard, unnerving slap; it tore through us, separating us as I staggered back into the blackness, snapping my eyes open to the shaking, quivering gloom.

I couldn't see anything.

My heart screamed in agony.

In front of us, somewhere in all that dark, Sparrow's tall, looming shadow shifted about in its queer manner, his large hat obvious in the shivering gloom. He was much closer now; he stood just a meter away, an obvious shape watching out of the dark with gleaming, coal eyes.

Will's eyes burned like pyres before me.

My heart raked against my skull.

The icy cold raped me.

_Will….Oh, Will…._

He's breathing was ragged before me.

"Well?" Sparrow croaked again, voice riched with annoyance, unfamiliar as hell-before me, Will was gasping, sucking in the cold, metallic air with loud, loud gasps. His heat died away like a waning candle; I stayed out of his reach, pulling farther into the abyss, farther away from him. My hands drew up to wrap around me.

_Will…Oh, Will…_

_What have I done?_

Sparrow cleared his throat.

For a moment, no one spoke as I stared up into the burning pyres of eyes, refusing to budge, to speak, to breathe.

My blood rushed about my body in waves.

My fingers were as cold as ice.

A sob died in my heart.

"We…We…We just wanted to a-ask you…. how _do _you make-up your eyes, Sparrow?"

In front of me, Will audibly groaned.

**OMG…I can't believe I just wrote that….**

**Wow…. honestly, folks, I…I really don't know what to say about that last part. I really don't…the only thing I can really say is, well…**

**DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME!**

**Anyway, now that's off my chest…**

**69 reviews, guys! AMAZING! Thank you so much, really! THANK YOU!XD **

**Secondly, I've been thinking and well, I'm going to have some question thing on every chapter I do. No, it's not about the writing style, or the story, or advice…I was thinking that every chapter, I'm going to ask questions that I'm really curious to find out about!**

**So…this week's grand slam is:**

**What do you guys HATE about Joey?**

**Tell me what you think on my review page, guys! I really want to hear from you-if you want it to be personal, for some ODD reason, you can always send me a message and I promise to answer you! Honestly, I don't why I'm doing this but…. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!**

**That's it for now! Watch out for the next one!**

**XOXO**


	37. The Secret of Algae

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**Thanks for answering the question, guys. As for what I hate about Joey…well…honestly, the thing I really hate about her is that she's so oblivious. I mean, yeah, she's my character. I **_**created **_**her…. but still…. there are times, when I'm writing this fanfic, that I feel like jumping into my story and bashing Joey on the head. She's **_**that **_**thick! **

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and thanks for answering my question, guys! Really means a lot to me.**

**Enjoy this one, though it's not my best….**

**ENJOY ANYWAY!**

"Fine! See if I care!" Were the only words I could come up with as I slammed the door behind me, letting the loud boom thunder through the midnight sky. Voices, soft and muttering, cut off behind the earsplitting roar as the wooden door swung back on its hinges and slammed back into its place, creaking against the walls and dragging against the hard planks. My blood boiled and rushed beneath my skin, surging with my every movement; anger, raw, relentless anger pitied against me, gnawing my heart and gnashing at my skull. My tongue tasted bitter.

_Bloody pirates._

_Bloody, fucking pirates._

It was so sickening, really. So bloody sickening; you know, in the old legends, people who went out their way to kill a dangerous monster, to slay a terrible beast and save many lives was often looked up to as a hero, revered as closely to the gods.

Like Persues, for example.

Or Hercules.

Or Siegfried.

But nooooo….

Not me.

Apparently, in this age of swashbuckling pirates, tight corsets and mythical gods, people who killed monsters were hated.

Not loved.

Hated.

Like me.

_I really hate this century._

Before me, the dark, soulless deck of the _Flying Dutchman _opened up below the sky, the fresh blue night shimmering above in a glistening canopy. Stars, silver and bright, twinkled in the dark sky, lighting the world in a dark blue hue; there was no moon tonight, no sliver of the ethereal satellite making its way across the night sky. No giant circle of pale grinning down from the heavens; there was only the stars, like dots of sparkles scattered across a black-blue canvas, millions upon millions. Above my head, below the navy sky, the cream white sails of the ghost ship looked like glowing sapphire, wavering about in the cool night breeze, playing with the stars. They all surged in one single direction; beneath me, the ship barely rocked as it inched across the black sea, side-by-side with the other two pirate ships. Wood groaned and moaned beneath my feet.

The world was strangely quiet.

Beside me, past the deck of the _Flying Dutchman, _candlelight flickered in the wind, washing the two ships' decks with wavering, orange light.

The _Flying Dutchman _was black.

As usual.

My hair, my loose, free hair, pulled in the cool breeze.

_There was something beautiful about the sea at night._

Without another word, I pulled away from the slammed door, paving through the darkness, walking blindly; I didn't know where I was going, so long as it was far away from those bumbling, good-for-nothing, superstitious, moronic, primitive pi-

That was when I saw him.

Limned against the blue night, sitting on the very edge of the bowsprit with his legs dangling on either side of the slim wood was Jared, his short dark blonde hair flaring in the starlight like white gold. His back was facing me, arched straight and rigid tight; he was just a still statue, sitting silently on the very tip of the long bowsprit, the very front of the ship. The celestial light, soft and waning, glowed against him like a shivering pale, stretching shadows all over his back as he stared out into the quiet sea without a single movement. His silvery hair fluttered gently in the wind, gliding against the twinkling sky like the sails above, smooth and without resistance. His face was turned away, gazing deep into the endless night, hidden in the whispering shadows. Not a muscle budged in his tough form, not a vein; in the pale moonlight, my brother was nothing more then a soft silhouette, staring out into the black, silent world.

_Jared._

Has that where's he been all day?

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the figure of my brother, at his white hair dancing about in the cold breeze.

Wondering at his silence.

At his thoughts.

Behind me, past the hard wooden door, the voices of the pirates' roared in a tumbling laughter, muffled but loud like the crashing of waves against a broken cliff.

The sails tugged and pulled above, flapping about in the cold breeze as if they possessed a life of their own.

I pulled at the strap of my brown bodice.

My shoulders shivered.

_Blast it._

With a loud, audible sigh, I dragged myself through the dark and towards my silent, brooding brother.

**888888888**

To those of you who don't know what a bowsprit is, well, let me just tell you that it is probably the most uncomfortable place to sit on a ship.

I mean, sure, it has a great view of the ocean and beyond.

And sure, it's the best place to get the wind.

And yeah, _maybe _it's the perfect tanning spot too….

But one wrong balance, one drunken swagger or a careless footing, would sent you plunging into the deep black waters, only to be crushed by the hull a few moments later.

It was, after all, a long narrow strip of wood protruding from the very front of the ship like a long plank, it's make round and smooth like ice. It was sharp as hell; the further north it went, the narrower it got, until at the very end of it was nothing more then a wooden, pointy steak. Ropes, thousands and thousands of ropes bounded around the slim wood, throwing up into the air towards the spiraling, tossing sails high above in the blue-black sky. Tendrils of white sails bunched about in its middle and end, the hundreds of hooks upon the wooden structure jingling about in the cold, cold breeze. Black ropes, thick and heavy, swayed about, swinging up and down, up and down. Everything smelt of oil.

Which is why, really, I barely made it across.

With a held breath, I slowly inched my way down upon the smooth wood, both hands gripping around the bowsprit, fingers digging deep into the surface. My arm was wrapped around a thick, black rope as I gently put myself down, the wind begging to throw me off completely; beneath me, my limp legs hung loosely above the empty black sea, boots blending perfectly into the darkness. Nothing, absolutely nothing at all safe my clutching hands separated me from the sea, from falling into the cold arms of the ocean, into its giant maw, and then being crushed beneath the weight of the entire ship, breaking my every bone….

"Don't fall," Jared's monotonous voice echoed beside me, like the soft rumbling of a distant thunder. Not an emotion betrayed in his voice; as I lowered myself down, nails biting into wood and arm inter-tangling with the wayward, swinging rope, I turned my head towards my left, towards my brother.

My hair flapped and slapped across my face.

The wood wobbled beneath my weight.

Jared was as before, his back still towards me as his legs hung on either side of the bowsprit; unlike me, who was now gently trying to balance on the right side of wood, both legs on one side, Jared had the thin, smooth bowsprit in between his legs. A rope, the very upmost rope, quivered by the side of his shadowy face as he gazed straight ahead into the blue-black sea, his dark blonde hair flickering in the shadows in a brilliant fair. The black leather of his skirted overall shivered in the night as the wind tugged and pull, ruffling against his enormous muscles like water gliding about under a gale. His shoulders were squared, his large body leaning against the singular rope beside him; there was hardly any light yet somehow, the stars were just enough, outlining and shadowing every feature of my brother's back like an old, oil painting of magnificent talent.

He did, indeed, look like a lovely painting from the back.

He was just a hand's breadth away.

_What the hell was he doing out here?_

As my butt hit down against the small, round wood, the muscles in my arm screaming to hold on tight, the wind rocked again, the cold icy breath of the night tugging at the ropes, pulling at the sails and kicking at my feet. It felt as if my stomach had surged all the way up my stomach; for a moment, fear, raw fear, paralyzed me as my butt sidled forward on the wood, my legs dangling lifelessly over the open, surging black sea. My mind went completely blank.

Completely dark.

And then, the wind reined in, giving me time to scurry fully onto my seat again, grabbing and wrapping around oiled ropes despite their burns. My heart thudded beneath my chest.

_If I had fallen…_

To my left, staring quietly out into the night, Jared repeated his warning, his voice dead and soulless.

"Don't fall."

My fingers hurried about to dig into the ridges on the black ropes, clawing deep into the thick hairs.

"Out of curiosity…. would you catch me if I fell?" I found my voice, turning my head to my left as hands continued its work of reaching higher into the ropes and pulling me farther away from the treacherous ledge, "Would you come after me, like that time back on Tortuga?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because," a soft sigh slithered out of my brother's lips as he remained faceless to me, staring straight ahead into the black horizon, his legs still, "You fell in at a port, which isn't at all that dangerous. Here, on the other hand…if you fell in, the ship will just grind you to bits."

"And you still won't help me?"

"No."

"Why-"

"Because instead of just you dying, I would die too. It would be better, really, if you were the only one to die."

"Oh please," I rolled my eyes in the dark, sucking a thick, salty breath as the wind began to pick up speed again, the rope burning against my skin, "You couldn't live one day without me."

Beside me, still like a statue, faceless in the dark, my brother breathed out another sigh, his shoulder pressing deep against the thick, cutting rope. His black-clad legs swung a little on either side, kicking in the midnight gloom, near invisible. His silvery hair wavered and whispered.

He was silent for a moment.

And then, in the surging, growing howl of the cold wind, he spoke again, voice calm and cool, devoid of any emotion.

"I doubt that."

"You doubt you would jump after me, or that you couldn't live one day without me?"

"The latter…I doubt that I couldn't live one day without you. After all, we aren't that close."

"It's not about the closeness, genius," I allowed myself a sigh as the wind dropped down again, my arms and hands wrapped around the ropes to tight they felt like vines twisting around old, sinewy trunks, "It's a matter of sanity."

"Sanity?"

"Yeah…we're stuck in the middle of the 18th century, among a filthy brethren of pirates…if I was to _die_, dear brother, you would be utterly alone."

"And that's a bad thing because…."

"Because you hate being alone."

Jared didn't reply.

For a moment, we both sat there, staring out into the sea, balancing upon the smooth wood; my fingers felt like they were bleeding as they twisted about the ropes, holding on tightly, holding on to my life. My heart thudded about like a booming drum, loud and persistent in the clear night; for a moment, neither of us spoke as the night pulled us away for a while, our hair fluttering in the wind along with the wild white sails above, trailing up into the stars. My bare shoulders felt numb and cold.

Cold as ice.

Jared said not a word.

Before me, beneath the winking stars, the sea was a span of endless dark blue, stretching through the night in every other direction. White waves surged about like pale blue horses, galloping about the rolling field of the sea in an endless, wondrous marathon; there was something so calm about the sea at night, something so soothing and inviting and comforting….

For a moment, neither of us spoke, staring out into the seas at either direction, breathing in the lapping winds. My dark blonde hair, sliver in the faint starlight, kissed against the side of my face, flailing across my vision, barring apart the quivering, waning night. The muscles in my arms burned with a tortured cry.

A thought struck me.

As my brother dwelled deep into his silent thoughts, his head facing full ahead again and his white-lined back still facing me, I released one tightly wounded hand; with a quick snap, I fell my arm through the air, flailing through the dark and letting my heart leap out of my chest. Fingers groped in the never-ending dark as my other hand wound tightly around the rope, screaming in protest as I balance all of weight, my whole life on it; with a soft yelp, I grabbed the underside of the bowsprit, fingers clenching around the smooth wood. The cool, oiled panes kissed against the skin as my hand encircled the perch, sliver strands dancing about my face in the pulling, cold gale. Metal hooks and oiled ropes slashed against the skin as my fingers dug into the wood again, as I had before, though only now, I wasn't gripping on for my life.

No, my left arm was doing that on all its own.

In the quiet of glistening, blue night, swaying about in the cool wind, above the liquid black sea, my fingers groped about the wood, feeling about with the very tips of my nails. Wood glided beneath my coarse skin like old parchment; all of a sudden, in the black night, with my hair slapping against my face and the cold stinging against my bare shoulders, I felt something soft and squishy kiss against the tips of my fingers. It was tough and awfully cold; it felt that I was dipping my fingers beneath a soft puddle of jelly, disappearing my hand into its thick, murky depths. It felt like vomit, smeared all over the underside of the bowsprit, bumpy and uneven, beyond all kind of gross. It was awfully, _awfully, _gross.

_Eww…._

_Oh well._

Without a word, I dug my hands into the icky slush and pulled it up, back towards my face, my arm tight and sore around the rope; all over my right palm, nearly invisible in the blue night was a squishy layer of black algae, dripping between my fingers and over my wrists in a sickening, twisted mess. It was as if someone had indulged in an entire bar of Oreos and then had, helplessly, puked up all over my hand; it was thick and cold, like the insides of a raw fish. Clumps gathered together at the knooks and cracks of my palm as I stared at the putrid, midnight black algae, the blue cast of the sky tingeing the organism an odd, bruise hue. It felt like soft pebbles, cold as ice, on my palm; a smell, a horrid, gut-wrenching smell, wafted up from the slim layer of black algae, casting away into the wind with the stench of rotten eggs and decaying flesh. Sliver strands, bright in the starlight, flickered across my vision as I stared down at the pulpy, dripping algae, the stomach back flipping about in my stomach. Bile crept up my throat.

_Eww…_

_Oh well._

With a heaving, thick breath, I closed my fist, clenching my hand shut in a firm, definite grip. Black algae, like drying, ugly oil paint, swelled out among my fingers as my hand closed shut in the dark, the gurgling black slime spilling around my wrists and down towards my limp, hanging legs. My fingers dived deep down into the horrid organism, as if I was squeezing the juice of out raw meat; without a word, I kept my pose as the black slime covered my entire palm and fingers in a quivering, disgusting coat of algae. It was cold and horrid, raw, putrid-I just stood still, holding my breath as I allowed the algae to cover the underside of my hand completely, letting my legs dangle lifelessly over the smooth edge.

Dark slime plodded down to my pants-clad legs, like heavy clots of pure black, tinged blue in the fair night.

My stomach groaned in disapproval.

Jared was silent beside me.

_Why am I doing this again?_

After a generous amount of half a minute, I unclenched my hand and without bothering about the falling algae, reached high up past the ropes and touched my face with the tip of a single finger. Cold ice, like a gentle burn, kissed right below the edge of my right eyebrow as my algae-coated finger landed on the mark, pulling the awful, rotting smell closer towards my nose. The liquid black hand, clumped here and there with algae, loomed right in front of my eyes, stinging my senses with its putrid stench and turning my eyes raw with tears. Bile burned in my throat.

_Oh well._

Without a word, I carried out my work, dragging the slimy, black algae across the arch of my right eyelid, just beneath the thick eyebrow; it felt disgusting, cold and slimy, the awful scent drifting over my senses and down deep into my lungs. My stomach turned and churned like the rolling ocean below; my left arm was still tangled around the rope, holding my entire weight atop the bowsprit, burning against my sore skin. My legs wobbled beneath me, lifeless before the churning void. My right eye fluttered shut beneath my trailing, coated finger.

_Why am I doing this again?_

Black algae, clumped and knotted, pressed down against the very top of my right eyelid as I spread a thin layer over the skin, ignoring the stench and the sickening feel; a loose black glump, about the size of my fingernail, began to trail down the edge of my eye, towards my cheek, but I caught in time, flicking it away in the wind. My hand was still clenched tight, hovering near my face, coated in black; tendrils of irksome black trailed down my wrists as I painted my eyebrow, moving coat by coat. My skin burned under each touch.

_Oh well._

_I suppose that's the prize for-_

"What the fuck are you doing now?"

With a finger stilling against my closed eyelid, pressing down against my eyeball and putrid algae stinging slightly, I turned to my left, head swinging as my body stayed absolutely still. My silver strand flapped against the black-coated hand; off to the left, perched at the very end of the bowsprit, Jared's head was turned towards me, his features angling in the waning light. Faint starlight, like quivering fair, shimmered across the rim of his face, silhouetting his broad nose and high cheekbones against the winking night sky. The tips of his silver, flaring hair turned dark as he turned towards me, the shadows leaping about his arching neck and broad shoulders as if they were dancers and he was a stage. Blue eyes, pure white in the quivering starlight, stared out at me through the navy gloom.

I couldn't tell what exactly he was feeling.

The algae seemed to itch on my closed eyelid, for some reason.

My feet felt heavy.

"What?"

"With your eye…" Jared's hoarse voice crackled with annoyance as his white eyes glared at me, his nose crunching in the frail starlight, "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"Make-up," I said simply enough with my eyelid still shut tight, the thin layer of algae twitching in an uneven line; I wasn't done yet, far from it, but I pulled my hand away anyway, trailing the soggy black mess and rotten stench away from my face. My fingers uncurled to form the black-coated palm again as I moved it away from me and towards my left, my arm still tight around the hard rope. My legs felt like dead weight beneath me.

My eyelid was beginning ever more irritable.

_For some odd reason…._

"What?" Jared's white-rimmed eyes squinted into slits in the dark as he slowly inched towards the black hand, his silver hair growing darker and darker with each breath. His legs were still straddled along the smooth pole; no longer did he leaned on the oiled rope. Instead, his body was slowly twisting about, the shadows dancing and leaping and cajoling about his moving back. His arms, his muscular arms glowed a brilliant white, the pure white sleeves billowing in the wind. His white eyes were like gleaming diamonds.

My hand moved closer into his vision, nearly invisible in the blue night.

It felt as if something was crawling about my eyelid.

"Sparrow taught me," I said simply enough, wringing my algae-coated fingers as he inched closer and closer towards my hand, his eyes like slits of pure white in the starlight. The cold bit down against my skin, pulling at the thick, gruesome algae; for a moment, a flick of my hair got stuck against my half-algae-covered eyelid, but with a swipe of my chin, it was gone.

The stench was really, _really _horrible.

"Taught you what?"

"Make-up…he told me earlier on, back at the cells-"

"Tell you what?"

With a soft sigh, I rolled my eyes, the muscles in my right arm pulling weary as the ones wrapped around the rope and holding me up felt as if they had torn apart long time ago. My chest heaved out in the blue-black night.

Jared just stared at my black-coated hand, white-lined eyebrows arched high.

My legs felt dead.

"_Make-up_…aren't you listening? He told me how to make-up…my eyes, that is-"

"But with what? What is _that_?"

"Algae."

For a second, my brother pulled his gleaming, white eyes away from my black-soaked hand and toward my face, his white eyebrows leaping high up his wide brow. The tips of his hair flew back into the bright, fluorescent silver of the starlight as he arched his neck back slightly, his back twisting at such odd terms. Darkness and light competed with one another on his face.

"_What?"_

"Algae," I wriggled my fingers, the wind slapping cold against my grazed cheek and closed eyelid, "You know, slime, various colours, icky, found in water-"

"Don't-I know what algae is, alright? I just-why the _hell _are you putting _algae _on your face?"

"Aren't you listening at all? IT'S MAKE-UP-"

"Algae?"

"Yes," I pulled my hand back towards me as the sigh ripped out of my exasperated body, my eyes rolling uselessly at my staring, wide-eyed brother," AL-GAE…Sparrow taught me about it!"

"He taught you to put…_algae_…on your face? As…as make-up?"

"Yes….I swear, sometimes, it's as if Dad or Mum dropped you on the head when you were a baby."

Jared's face remained a stage for both the shadows and the waning starlight, his features washed away, taken in the blue gloom. His feet were stiff as logs at each side, boots pointing out into the sweeping sea; for a moment, Jared just stared at me, eyebrows blending into the top of his hairline. His whitewashed lips were parted slightly, his jaw slack. Bristles of black gleamed like moon rock against the white jaw line.

_He really needed to shave._

"Wait, wait," Jared moved then, shaking his head and closing his eyes in irritation as he swung his right arm back and grabbed the same rope I held, twisting on his hip like the freaking athlete he was, "You're telling me-"

"Sparrow told me, alright?" Another sigh, like a washing wave, rippled through me as I drew my black-coated hand back towards my chest, pressing it against the brown bodice without caring about any slimy, black stains, "Earlier on…back at the dungeons…I asked him how he did his eyes like that, you know, kohl-rimmed at all. I mean, he didn't use an eyeliner obviously, and I'm not so sure about paint…so I asked him. And he told me…he told me that he used black algae."

"Black algae?" His eyebrows were still high up his brow as he peered at me through the blue gap between the thick black rope we shared and his massive, white-clad arm, his fingers a few inches higher then my own. Shadows and pure silver light clashed against one another all about his angled face.

My eyelid was really, _really _beginning to itch.

"Yeah…he said I could find it on the outer planks of any ship. He said…well, he said it was common enough, and I just thought-"

"And you believed him?"

"Well-"

"Which part of him throwing us overboard gives you the idea that you can actually _trust _Sparrow?"

I didn't know what to say.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, drips and drops of cold algae dribbling down to my thighs in the most disgusting manner. My bare shoulders felt cold in the wind, the skin naked and bare, exposed to the chilling gale. My feet felt lifeless beneath me.

The ocean rolled in silence, lulling the air with its sweet lullaby.

The rope burned against my arm.

The blue night was silent.

_Is my eyelid supposed to itch like that?_

I drew my algae-coated finger up to my eyelid again.

"And you're still putting in on you," Jared breathed out a thick, tiring sigh as his white-gold eyes rolled about in their sockets, his shoulder slumping in defeat, his fingers falling slowly down the rope. His eyelashes shuttered close momentarily in exasperation; up above, my finger continued with its work, spreading the thick, black algae evenly about my eyelid, with slow, tedious strokes. Vessels pumped at my temples; for some reason, the algae seemed irritable on my skin, burning lowly against my sore eyelid. My eyeball beneath felt raw and aching, like pulsing blood. The world stank of rotting flesh again.

The tip of my little, algae-coated finger brushed against my mid-cheek, leaving a black, horrid stain.

A large swell rocked the boat forth.

Sails wailed above.

My heart clenched.

"I'm a girl, Jared. I'm allowed to put on make-up."

"Yes, but _algae_?"

"Find me a sharp eyeliner and some black eye shadow, and then we'll talk."

And that was that; with a loud, defeated sigh, Jared turned away, twisting his waist back into place and facing the gleaming night once more. His hair beamed like a bright field of stars, whipping in the blue wind, tossing like the mane of a white horse. His neck arched straight, his arm still holding on to the my rope just inches above my fingers; for a moment, neither of us spoke as we just kept to our own thoughts, him staring out quietly into the black horizon while I patiently painted my right eyelid, half-turned on the pole. The wind gnashed and gnawed at my bones.

A shiver crept up my bones.

My stomach turned.

_The smell's really awful, like I'm wiping something dead all over my eye…God, when will this itch stop-_

"Where have you been all day?"

Off to the left, perched on the very tip of the bowsprit and facing the black sea once more, Jared let his right hand trail down the rope even more, his muscles loosening up like rubber band being released out of its pull. Shadows quivered upon his leather-clad back.

I wanted to itch my eyelid so badly…

"What?"

"Where have you been? I haven't seen the likes of you since morning, after breakfast….where did you go? Scarlett and I spent a good hour asking about you-well, it was really Scarlett that was doing all the asking, and-"

His voice came back as a deep, hoarse rumble.

"Mostly here."

"Here?"

"Yeah."

"Up here? On the bowsprit?"

"Mostly."

Black eyelashes, tiny and soft, poked against my finger as I sidled nearer towards the edge, dragging and spreading the algae out as evenly as I could on the closed eyelid.

My legs swayed helplessly as a rolling swell hit the hull of the boat below, clenching my heart and freezing away my senses.

My skin was beginning to throb.

"Mostly?"

"Yes."

"But…but I would have noticed you…Scarlett…Scarlett and I were near here during lunch time. I would have noticed-"

"Like I said, mostly."

The sound of the soft, rushing waves below and the loud howl of the cold wind in our ears filled the silence for awhile as we stared back out into the darkness, voices silent; my arm was beginning to get tired so, hesitantly, I dropped my finger away from my eyelid, the black-coated hand still clenched shut around the swirling pull of icky, cold algae trapped within. My knuckles banged against the black of my jeans, pulling away from my face as the muscles stretched into an easy rest. My other arm was still wrapped around the black rope.

I didn't open my right eye, letting the itching, irritable algae cool off in the lapping, slapping cold wind.

My silvery hair flew and spiraled and danced about my face in the cajoling wind, kissing my cheeks.

Cold slime kissed against the thin fabric of my pants.

My eye still itched.

I spoke again.

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you _mostly _come out here? Alone? What _were _you doing by yourself all day?"

Jared's voice breathed out a thick sigh, his features hidden away, his silhouette against the cold starlight.

My eye felt like a pulsing throb.

"Thinking."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah."

"Think…" I let the word drag on a little longer as I stared at my brother's back, at his glistening silver hair, at his rigid straight back and his white, glowing sleeve billowing in the wind between him and the rope, "You disappeared all day…to…to _think_?"

"Yeah."

"But…but you couldn't you just think around us? Did you have to go all MIA just…just to _think_? I mean, you could have stayed with us-"

"No one can think around you, Joe. You're too noisy."

A flick of algae on my cheek, the one I had accidentally brushed on, was beginning to itch too, throbbing the skin beneath it.

The sails wailed and moaned above us, casting against the enchanting sky, mingling with the black sails of the _Black Pearl._

Something knotted in my stomach.

"Well," I drummed my black, icky fingers against my thigh as Jared breathed out a thick sigh, his silver hair flapping, "What about?"

"What?"

"What were you thinking about? All day…what were you thinking about all day…by yourself?"

"Things."

"Things, huh?"

"Yeah. Things."

"What sort of things, chap?"

"You know," another sigh, thinner and softer this time, stretched through Jared, his neck arching forward so that his chin could slowly move to rest on his chest, "Things."

"Ah, thinking about things such as things."

"You're beginning to sound like Sparrow."

"Says the man who thinks about things such as things."

"I was just thinking, alright?" Jared's tone picked up a tired edge as he sighed out the sentence, soft in the pulling, cold wind, "Just-"

"Thinking. Got it," I offered a weak smile at his back, but Jared didn't see it; he was too busy staring down into the blue gloom, his voice gone, his thoughts lost. The white of his large, long sleeve kissed against my wrapped arm as he leaned closer towards the rope we shared, his body tilting slightly; his head was bent down to his chest now, his chin kissing against his collarbone. The back of his head, of his spiky hair was inflamed in a halo of brilliant silver, bright in the navy night. The white of his collar glowed brightly.

My arm was turning numb, the rope burning away all the senses, all the pain.

The algae still smelt in the wind, like a rotting carcass somewhere nearby.

My eyelid was really beginning to itch like hell.

_Maybe I should wash this stuff-_

"Where's Scarlett?"

"Dead."

"Joey…"

"Fine," I sighed, turning my head so as my single left eye could stare down at my thigh, at my algae-coated, sticky, putrid hand resting above it, "She's not dead-"

"Where is she?"

"In her room…is that what you were thinking about?"

"What?"

"Scarlett…is that what you spent all day thinking about?"

For a moment, my brother was silent, his neck still bent, his chin still pressed against his chest; and then, he straightened up again, a sigh rippling through his body as he rose his head upright and pushed his hand farther up the rope, away from me. The cloth of his sleeve shifted and rubbed in the soft wind, blooming a white pale. His silver hair danced out among the stars.

His sigh was tediously long.

My eyelid was really starting to get on my ner-

"A little."

"About how you could be in love with her and all?"

"I should stop telling you everything."

"Jared-"

"Yeah, something like that," he shrugged a little, pushing his wide shoulders against the hard, black leather, "Something along that line."

"Okayyyyy…did you come to a conclusion?"

"Nothing that is any of your business."

"So it's surprise, then!"

"Something like that."

"You're being very vague here, little brother."

"It's my thoughts, Joe. I'll keep them to myself, hear?"

"Ahhh…" I nodded with a little smile tugging at my lips, my right hand slowly trying to pry my algae-glued fingers apart, "Then what else?"

"What else what?"

"What else did you think about today? I mean, besides Scarlett…don't tell me you were thinking about Scarlett for every second of the entire day, because that would be a _whole_ new level of desperate!"

"I wasn't thinking about Scarlett all day, moron."

"Then what?"

"Well, that was home-"

"Home?"

"Yeah," Jared pulled his arm away now, dragging his right hand off the rope we shared and back towards his body, the white cloth kissing gently against my numb skin," I…Well, I was thinking about how we're getting home and all."

Despite the flaming itchiness on my right eyelid, despite the discomfort, I stretched my skin and raised an eyebrow, struggling to maintain my eye shut. Strand of my coarse hair kissed against my cheekbone.

The streak of algae on my cheek felt like an irritable scab.

My legs felt cold.

"You're kidding right?"

"What?"

"You…you were thinking about how to get us home _and _Scarlett at the same time?"

"….yessssss…"

A groan escaped my lips.

"I have a genius for a brother."

"What?"

"You do realize that Scarlett is the _only _reason for you to stay here, right?"

"No, she isn't."

"Yes, she is."

"N-N-No, she isn't!"

"Y-Y-Yes, she is!"

"Look," Jared turned his head to glare at me over his shoulder, his silver hair flickering as orbs of pure white stared furiously at me, "We _have _to go home. We have to, Joe…this…this isn't our world."

"But what about Scar-"

"It doesn't change anything."

"But I don't think-"

"Look," he twisted on his waist again, silver hair spinning and arm turning as his bright white eyes glared at me forcefully through the blue, whipping wind, "We're going home, alright? We're going to find a way home; even though Circe turned out blank on the whereabouts of Calypso, she could be at the Fountain of Youth-"

"Actually," for the hundredth time, I cut off my brother, wincing as a streak of pure irritation sheared through my right eyelid, trembling my foul, black fingers with agitation, "That's not right."

Before me, turned about in his post at an odd, twisted angle, with his hand grabbing the wood just beside my hips, my twin brother raised one of his silver-coated eyebrows, glimmering the light upon his face. White orbs twinkled like brilliant stars.

He looked like an angel.

"What that's supposed to mean?"

And with that, I began to explain everything, everything about the night at Circe's, about the Gods, about Balder, about my sword, about me being sort of chosen, only leaving out the oath swearing part; words just came pouring out of me, barely stopping, my open eye always upon that silver-shadow streaked face. My eyelid itched and burned with each passing minute; I don't know how long we were up there, on the bowsprit, in the channeling, dark wind, but it had to be for at least a good hour or so, for the stars seemed to have shifted during my narration and my body became as cold and lifeless as a dead doll. My voice filled the air like a resounding, never-ending ring, rushing above the wind and the soft, pulling waves. My insides swelled like a rushing sea.

My legs went completely dead.

My eyelid and cheek burned like wildfire.

Jared's face hardly changed.

"And that's it," I sighed as I finally finished my narrative, gulping back a sward of bitter salvia to wet my dry, scratchy throat," That's the story." My eyelid seemed to have a life on its own; the algae, the rotting, black algae that filled the air with a horrid stench, had long dried off on my face and my hand, creating a thick, chunky layer over my skin. It felt like dried paint, disgusting dried, black paint that smelled like a decomposing body. My eyelid felt like it weighed a ton.

_I'm not so sure this is how Sparrow does it…._

The world around us was a mosaic of twinkling silver and rushing blue wind.

My arm had gone completely numb.

My body felt chilled.

Jared was silent.

For a minute or so, neither of us spoke as Jared's white eyes gazed down at the smooth wood, far, far away; with a soft swish, he grabbed the black rope, just above my own cold fingers, and kicked himself around in the dark, knocking his left leg over the thin, pointy wood. His entire body swiveled towards his right, in the same direction as me; his heavy, muscular left leg dropped beside his right as he turned to face the same landscape as I did, his silver face flickering away into the dancing shadows. His fair head wavered like a field of bright, white flowers.

His muscles rippled beneath the leather overall and its white, polished sleeves.

His face was blank and silent.

_I should really wash this gunk-_

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

His voice was measured and low.

_Thoughtful._

Quietly, I shrugged my bare shoulders, clenching and unclenching my dried, cracking, algae-coated hand. The icy cold wind tickled against the black clay on my eyelid.

It was all very uncomfortable.

"I didn't think about it, really," I admitted, letting a tired drawl pull at the tips of my voice, silver strands whipping about in every other direction, "The thought of telling you…well, it never quite came to mind."

"You never thought to tell me?"

"Nope."

"You didn't think it was important enough?"

"I didn't know what to believe," I turned a solitary eye at his silver form, at his side-angle silhouette framed against the blue-black, the black rope separating us in a single strand, "I _still _don't know what to believe."

His hand had long left the rope; instead, they now cradled together in his lap, rubbing gently against each other. His silver hair whipped and jumped and leaped in the gleaming darkness, dancing in and out of the starlight. His carved face was emotionless in the fair.

His thick lips were set in a straight, grim line.

_Is he mad at me? For not telling him…no. No, that's a silly thing to get mad over. It's too petty to be upset about…but then again…this is Jared we're talking about. He's the king of pettiness! God, I should have brought my sword, not that is would do any good against-_

"Who else knows?"

"What?" I left my mouth hanging as I struggled to keep my closed, algae covered eye in place, the automatic blink shuddering through my eyes as Jared's voice broke me out of my reverie. My arm felt dead, wrapped around the hard, tough rope like that.

The smooth white of Jared's right sleeve swept against my numb arm.

He barely moved.

"Who else knows about this…about this Balder? And the sword…who knows of it?"

"Only Scarlett and Circe…I asked Lessie about Balder once, but he would say nothing of it."

"Sparrow knows anything?"

"No, not that I know of anyway…though I'm not sure-"

"Barbossa."

"No. I don't think so."

"Turner?"

"Never."

"Boot-"

"No one, Jared," I breathed out a tired sigh as the wind kicked another one as us, a cold punch right in the stomach, "No one except Scarlett and Circe and now…well, now you too. The four of us are the only ones who know about it."

"Don't you want to tell the captains?"

"What for?"

"You don't trust them?"

"They're pirates, Jared. Who in the right mind would trust a bunch of pirates?"

"We are," he said of matter-of-factly as he turned toward me, a twinkle blooming in each white, beaming eye, "Aren't we?"

I didn't answer him.

For a moment or so, Jared and I said nothing, gazing back out into the sea, into the endless, black-blue gleaming carpet. The cold shuddered through our bodies like quiet wakes, the ship rocking beneath us like gentle tremors. The world was still and quiet, the wind taking in a deep, chilling breaths.

My legs were completely numb.

My eyelid still burned like a bad infection.

My heart lilted a soft melody.

_I wonder if the crew have finished eating yet._

For a moment or so, my mind wondered to far away places.

And then, Jared spoke again.

"What are you going to do about it then?"

"What _am _I suppose to do?" I turned my single eye back at him, blinking it slowly and fluttering the hard other as I stared once more at my brother's silver-clad silhouette, "I'm not even sure all of this…the sword, this Balder character…I'm not even sure it's real-"

"Why would Circe lie to you?"

"She's half-mad, Jared."

"Doesn't make her a liar."

"No…just a creepy cannibal."

"I'm serious, Joey," he flickered his eyes back towards me again, his silver hair tossing like the whipping white-tipped waves below, "Why would Circe lie to you about the gods, the sword, Balder…when she has _nothing_ to gain from it?"

"I don't know. She's mad as a box of frogs. Maybe, in her twisted mind, she finds lying and making up stories rather amusing. I would, if I were her."

"Or she could be telling the truth."

"Maybe-"

"Maybe the Gods really _do _exist, Joe. Maybe Balder really _was_ a God, and your sword _really_ belongs to him. Maybe you really _are_ Balder's heir."

"I'm seriously questioning that."

"As am I," he nodded once, lips grim, expression dead, "But I see no other reason not to believe it."

"Expect that it sounds completely insane."

"This _whole_ adventure is insane, remember? I'm sure we could handle one more crazy."

"Just one more crazy?"

"Just one more."

A smile, the smallest of smiles touched my lips as I gazed at my brother, staring at his white, blank eyes and his tossing, shadowy-silver face. The wind whipped my curls about me in a fray; for a moment, I just stared at him, letting the smile stain across my lips and soak into my blood. Something warm stirred within my ice-cold shell, bringing life back into me. The world swirled about us in gleaming winks.

My eyelid was still itching like crazy.

My heart was thumping louder.

Jared smiled back.

"Why not?"

**TA-DA! End of chapter!**

**Hope you liked that one guys, though it was really draggy to write, and probably to read too. Sorry for that.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys! LOVE IT! I really appreciate it! If you have anything to say about this story, please leave your comments on my review page, ya?**

**This week's question is:**

**Which character annoys you the most?**

**Tell me what you think folks, and I'll share mine too!**

**Thanks, guys! Bye for now!**

**XOXO**


	38. Important Author's Note!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I would like to apologise for the stupid mistake that I just did; instead of loading my new chapter, I actually reloaded chapter 27! In other words, the latest chapter that you guys have just read is chapter 27! A REPEAT!

I feel like a giant idiot.

That'll teach me for writing late in the night.

Anyway, I've fixed my error and now, the REAL chapter 37 is online. So, please go back a step and read the new chapter, "The secret of algae" as it was suppose to be. I'm really sorry about this mix-up, guys, and I promise not to make such stupid mistakes again.

Thanks and bye for now!

P.S. please read the new-replaced chapter 37, if you want to continue on with the story.

Signing out,

Athena93


	39. A Passing Storm

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Sorry about the glitch, guys!**

**For the past month, I have been having this massive writer's block. I just can't seem to write, and with all my exams and all, it's just been really hard. So, I'm sad to say that this really isn't my best work. Honestly, I had a hard time writing this. Anyway, enjoy what you can!**

It was a storm.

A storm that no one had even seen coming.

It had come up early on in the afternoon, grey, bubbling clouds smiting out the fierce sun without warning, the treacherous wind pulling and tugging completely out of nowhere. The waves had kicked up altogether suddenly, white caps surging against the sides of the ships, the water turning a metallic, lifeless grey as the sky disappeared behind the folds of the surging black thunderheads. No one had seen it, no one had even forecasted it; it had just come, blinding out the warmth of the world, smiting out all the colour and pulling at everything with cold, chilling claws. The smell of fresh, hot seawater had dissolved away into the faint nothingness of sweet rain.

Sails had screamed against the midnight sky, black slashing against white, flapping like the wings of a horrid, gut-wrenching dragon.

The wind had tore away at my ears.

The world had been completely grey.

_And then it began to pour._

"I got it!" I screamed through the roar of the thunder, letting my voice tear through the blinding sheet of silver bullets, the water raining down my tongue. I couldn't see, not a blasted thing, but I yelled anyway as my fingers clamped shut over the slippery, whipping rope, yarn burning against my wet skin, my heart surging in a deathly windstorm. The world crashed about in an endless swirl of bleak, wet grey, of whirling brown and white, of tumbling blue; my fist closed shut over the rope and with a loud cry, I pulled it down, my knees crashing to the watery grave, my body heaving toward the cold wet. My arm screamed as the rope snapped downwards once again-

And the wind yelled in protest.

"Hold on, lass!" Gibbs hoarse voice yelled through the chaos, through the blinding, grey chaos; all around me was water, thick, choking water crashing from above, from below, from everywhere like pulling, leeching arms. Cold, shocking water, salty and vile, horrid and deathly; I could feel the wood, could feel the wood of the floor beneath all the grey, all the surging, churning grey but there was just too much water, too much endless, dreadful water. The rope cried and wailed and moaned in my hand as the wind kicked against it, surging me forward, pulling me through the terrible wet as my knees banged down against the wood with a loud, resounding crack.

A thunder exploded overhead.

I couldn't feel anything.

Salt, thick, foul salt swirled in my mouth as dots of blinding water stabbed against my eyes, clouding away my sight, numbing my senses to smite. There was nothing to see, nothing but the twisting grey, the climbing, dripping brown, the pale white rope biting across my palm; I couldn't breath, couldn't breathe through the thick rain, couldn't breath through the sharp tug in my chest. Roars screamed above me, deafening me; I couldn't hear anything, nothing but the endless snarl, the endless, dreadful howl of the raging storm all around me. Water was the only thing I could see, the only thing I-

The wind screamed once more.

I couldn't do anything about it; I just held on as the wind, the horrible, wailing gale pulled on the rope once more, cutting through my palm and stabbing against my body. My hands dug deep into the thick, slippery yarn; a crack, a whiplashing crack filled my world as the wind pulled against the rope and I went flying.

Flying through water.

All I saw was the biting shallow depths of grey, of the hard, swelling wood; and then, pain, shocking, numbing pain exploded within me as I crashed against the base of the mast, my back slamming against the drenched, hard wood. Light, fast, gnashing light, flashed across my vision as my spine howled like a stab wound, my head lolling back against the wood, killing all of my senses. Water choked in my throat, my eyes went blind and for moment, all I could do was lie there, against the mast, screaming against the water, screaming against the world.

Thunder crackled like an exploding bomb, way above in the black, black sky.

The rope pulled against my pain-wracked body, pulling my arm right off.

Someone screamed my name.

My lungs felt dead.

_Oh God._

_I was going to die._

It wasn't the end.

As the pain began to fade, the water slashing against my numbing body, the cold smiting away the horrid, _horrid _sting of the wood against flesh, of blood against solid, it came; over the wooden barrier, past the grey gloom, the shivering green light, the faint, bleak colours, a wall of water rose, white waves surging over the side of the ship, raining down onto the deck. It came like a thousand sharp daggers, cold and bright, piercing against my body; there was nothing I do, nothing at all as the waves crashed against me like a million sledgehammers, pounding me against the mast, tearing against my flesh. White took over my world as the water slammed against me, and I could do, all I really do was hold my breath, close my eyes, and scream within as the waves punched and kicked and stabbed and staked right through me. Water engulfed me completely.

My entire body screamed with torment.

_Hold on to the rope, Joey._

_Hold on._

There was only white.

**888888888**

_Will._

Even now, sitting on the helm steps, shivering beneath the thick blanket and pressed against the rain-wracked wind, I was thinking about him, thinking about his face, his breath, his very being.

Even with the tiny drops of rain hitting against me like cold needles, poking against my damp, chilled skin, my mind was stuck on only one thing.

_Will._

A thunder erupted above, like an exploding bomb, echoing through the grey streaked skies, invisible in the gloom.

The wood rocked softly beneath my feet, whipping about the waves, like a melody lulling to a tune.

The wind whispered in its sweet voice.

_Will. _

All around me, the world was grey, a dismal, bleak grey; it was as if someone, an artist perhaps, had taken a paintbrush and painted everything in a cold, lifeless bleak. It was as if all the colour had been leeched out of the world; the wind was grey, the sky black, the fluttering sails above the dull, dead colour of ash. Spires of wood, tall and broad, twisting up to the skies, were nothing more then hard black, wet and dripping, devoid of any colour or life. Nothing made sense, nothing was clear; there was no sun, no light, just the shimmering pale of the gentle rain, and the soft glow of the circling, pulling mist. Lighting, bright and brilliant, tore through the sky; it was as if, truly, we had fallen into a painting, an old, dark, gothic painting where the pale banners streaked through the gloomy sky and the world smelt of rich, sweet rain. The wind slapped against my cold, cold skin, dragging the soft voices, the soft, chilling voices through the icy air. Water shot against me like bullets.

Everything was wet and grey, damp and raw.

And beautiful.

Strangely beautiful.

_Will._

Why was I a fool?

Why?

Why did I have to fall in love with a man, a beautiful, amazing man who would never love me back?

Why did I have to pick him, out of all the man in the world, in all the times?

Why?

Back home, back in the future, this never happened before. Not once; I've never been in love before, never felt this way, this _way_, for anyone one before. I've dated of course, but….

I've never met anyone who made me want to throw my life out of the window, all in his name.

Ever.

So why?

Why Will?

Why did I have to be in love with Will?

Why did he have to be the one?

The one who kissed me, who took my breath away?

The one whose touch ignited me, whose very lips trapped me, ensouled me?

The one who could look right into my soul, whose eyes seemed to flare with a roaring, beautiful fire?

The one who stole my world?

The one that would never be mine?

Though I was cold, though my world was bleak and grey and my body shivering wet, I could see him, a mirage, a dream in the foggy recesses of my mind; his perfect long nose, his thick, straggly dark hair, his harsh, tanned skin, his sliver of a moustache, his rough jaw, his blazing eyes…

I could see him, see the quirk in his lips when he was mad, see the clenching of his jaw as fury overtook him-and then, on those special, rare moments, those amazing moments, I could see his smile, his soft smile glimmering across his face, lighting his features. I could see the fire dancing in his eyes, hot and brilliant, wild and beautiful.

I could see him.

In my dream.

In this fog of a dream.

And I was a fool.

"What yer thinking 'bout, lass?" Gibb's rough, slurred voice snapped through the mist like a sharp call, jolting me out of my senses; my eyes blinked in surprise as the mirage disappeared from my mind, swiping away forever. The world flooded back into my senses; the deck, the wet, wet deck of _Betty _laid before as before, wobbling up and down, its colour completely gone. The sails streamed through the darkness, ghostly and pale above; with a snap, I was back, sitting on the helm steps of _Betty_, shivering head to toe, head against the wood.

I was back on the ship, away from my longings, away from my dreams.

Back to reality.

Of sorts.

"Boys," I winced out loud as I turned to look at the approaching pirate, going against the slashing cold wind and stinging, fair raindrops; the pudgy old pirate stood on the step above me, his short form a tall round shadow against the ridged steps. His face was as bleak as the day above, his grey hair blending right into the whipping sky; he was, as all of us, wet to the bone, trails of clear rainwater trailing over his rough skin, sleeking his lifeless ponytail flat back against his head. Saggy old cheeks were rimmed with the cold water, tiny flecks of clear dotting his fraying white beard, his dark black clothes stuck wet against his plump form. Streams of water, gurgling, icy streams fell from his body like thousands of little waterfalls, _pinging _and _ponging _towards the wooden steps like sharp bullets, never-ending. His dark brown eyes were grey in the cold, shuddering gloom.

Mr. Gibbs was wet.

As were we all.

As was I.

Off to my right, past the wooden barriers, the wind carried the voices and yells of the other pirates, their loud curses and curt footsteps riching the cool, chilling air with slight chaos.

The ship lurched away beneath me, wobbling my feet, pressing against my body.

The sails looked like ghosts in the dark sky, wailing, moaning ghosts.

The blanket felt itchy against my skin.

I was tired.

So bloody tired_._

_Will._

Beside me, against the cold, slashing wind and black, uneven sky, Mr. Gibbs' thick lips pulled into a flat line; without a word, the older man took one step forward and in a single, steady movement, fell downwards and settled upon my step. His weight heaved against the wood as he sat down beside me, his bulging form brushing against my woolly blanket. His body heat hit against me like a slap against my face, persisting above the chilling wind; water, droplets of cold, biting water gnawed against my side as they fell off him and onto me, adding on to the slight drizzle that bit and nibbled into my skin.

It was so bloody cold.

A lightning slashed through the black heavens.

"Boys, eh?" his voice was grungy as he gazed over at me, his booted feet settling on the step below, his grey, limp ponytail shaking slightly at his effort; without a word, I nodded at him once, at his dripping face and his bleak, weary eyes. The edge of my drenched hair brushed against the collar of the blanket around me as I nodded, filling my eardrums with that fucking sound; despite his slamming body heat and bulging form, Mr. Gibbs proved little protection from the horrid wind and biting raindrops.

His grey eyes were quite warm though.

A shudder rippled through my body, making me pull the blankets tighter around me, engulfing me in a chasm of brown wool.

The wind howled away in my ear, a loud, resounding howl like the lament of a haunting spirit.

A door slammed somewhere below.

I was really cold.

As I pulled myself tighter, diving deeper into the warm blankets and leaning my head once more on the wooden barrier, Mr. Gibbs spoke again, his voice rough and coarse in the flailing wind.

"I know what yer mean, lass," he grumbled as I heaved out a tired sigh, my heavy head resting hard against the wood as a thunder rumbled above once again, "I know exactly what yer mean." His voice melded along with the whining thunder but I heard his words anyway; every part of me felt chilled, as if I was sitting knee-deep in the cold waves, drenched head to toe.

_Well, I was drenched…_

My bones felt dead.

"You're a man," I found myself muttering as I stared straight ahead, at the wet, wooden deck, at the bleak shadows and the shifting mists, "You don't know anything."

"Well…I do have a daughter, lass. I raised her enough to know, yer know?"

"You have a daughter?" I did not see this coming; with a sharp breath, I blinked my eyes and pushed my head around, straining against the clawing wind, the frigid cold and pulling weariness. My muscles protested but I persisted; ignoring the sound of my wet hair against the wool, I turned my head to look over at Mr. Gibbs, and his warm, grey eyes.

His skin was slightly red beneath the silver droplets for some reason.

Behind him, behind his saggy face and dull, flat hair, the sky was a torrid black, blending harshly against the hard brown of _Betty's _wood as the latter twisted and spiralled about in its gentle forms.

The wind slapped against my face.

_Will. _

"Aye lass," Mr. Gibbs nodded slowly as his streaked-grey eyes met mine, his fat arms cradling something to his chest, flecks of ice water dripping off the ledges of his jaw, "Victoria Mary Gibbs's her name…she's not dat much older den yer, in fact."

"Victoria?"

"Aye lass…Victoria."

It was strange, just thinking about it; sitting there, against the creeping cold and slashing raindrops, trapped away beneath the fold of my wool blanket and edging weariness, I just couldn't fathom it, couldn't fathom the whole idea of it. I just couldn't picture it.

Gibbs had a daughter?

An actual, breathing daughter?

A family?

_But why not?_

He was an aged man, a good man…

Sure, he was loyal to Sparrow like a dog.

And he needed a month-long bath.

And some dental floss.

But still…

"I didn't know you have a family," I voiced out in a rough mutter as the ship rocked once again beneath us, shuddering the steps with loud creaking and twisting my chilled stomach into a hard knot, "You never mentioned them."

"Had, lass."

"Had?"

"Aye…I _had _a family…that life…. that all is no more."

There was no emotion as he spoke, no trace of feelings; it was just a matter of fact as I glazed tiredly into his grey eyes, my head heavy upon my neck, my body cold and weary beneath the thick covers. Rain-dotted wrinkles crinkled beneath my gaze.

Another lighting tore through the sky, a flash of white light, hot and brilliant in the cold, cold black.

Jared's voice shouted something behind us, up on the helm.

My fingers felt numb.

My heart squeezed to a stop.

"I'm sorry," my sore voice barely managed to mutter as I lowered my eyes down to Gibb's feet, leaving his streaking-grey eyes to stare down at the metal boots, my covers wounded tightly around my body, "I'm really sorry…I shouldn't…I-I…I didn't mean-"

"They aren't dead, lass."

"No?"

"Nay…me wife and daughter are still alive, though I'll be dead'n to them."

It was cold, horribly cold, and my head was beginning to ache but I kept my attention; despite everything, despite my spinning weariness and stirring gloom, I couldn't help but bring my eyes back up to him again, to look at his drenched face and pudgy cheeks.

Why hadn't I heard this about him before?

_Maybe because you never cared two cents for him, genius._

Scarlett's laugh mirthed the stinging, slapping wind.

"They think you're dead?"

"Nay," Gibbs breathed out a thick, foggy sigh as he gazed over at me, a frail, wet strand of greying black flapping against the whipping grey, the silver of the cutting rain dancing about in his bleak eyes, "Nay, lass…dey know I'm alive. Dey knows…every year, I sent dem a letter, tellin' dem of me health and all, and askin' after them. Of course, they never reply me ma-"

"Why not?"

"Me wife and daughter have wanted nothin' with me ever since I became a pirate, lass."

"What?" My voice was scratchy, and lethargy pulled at my face but I managed to quirk a single eyebrow at the face before me, my hands pulling the brown wool

closer against my shivering form as I let the rain slash against my scrunched face, "Why?"

"Simply because I'm a pirate, lass."

"I don't….so they both aren't talking to you because…because you're a pirate?"

"Aye."

For a moment, I just stared at the older pirate, at his chubby face limed against the black sky, the shadow of the ghostly sails dancing about his figure, his bleak grey hair whipping in the wind.

My own hair clawed and lashed along with the stabbing wind.

The brown wool was incredibly itchy against the nape of my neck.

My toes had lost all feeling.

Voices filled the icy air.

The sea lurched again.

"Why would they do that?" I asked with a sigh as I slowly leaned back against the wooden barrier again, twisting my head around to face the drizzle-washed planks and wet, twisting wood. Scratchy, damp hair pulled against the nape of my neck as I turned away from Gibb's bulldog face and back once more onto the wet deck, at the flapping grey sails above and the bleak sea ahead. The wood felt hard and strong against my head again.

My teeth were beginning to chatter together.

"Hm?"

"Your daughter…and wife. Why would they want nothing to do with you anymore?"

"I'm a pirate, lass…a pirate's not somethin' to be proud of."

"Why? Because you plunder and destroy?"

Beside me, wet and weary, Gibbs released a sound that was a mixture of both a sigh and a small chuckle.

"Aye. That would be it."

"But you're still her father," I kept my tired gaze out into the bleak world as I shifted my boots slightly, pulling the wool even more tightly around me as the wind kicked up a chilling, squeezing notch, "Doesn't that mean something to her? To your wife as well?"

"Nay. Not when yer a pirate."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Nay, it does lass," it was a sigh, a thick, heavy sigh, "Being a pirate…it…it ain't somethin' noble. It ain't somethin' Victoria and Anna be proud of."

"Because you're considered a criminal?"

"Aye, lass. Yer got it."

The next few minutes were kept to silence; behind us, up on the helm, Scarlett's voice rang above the muffled chaos of the other voices, her melodic tone sweet and pure like the playing of the flute. The wind felt like claws raking against my exposed skin, the raindrops like frail kisses of wet, stinging my cheeks. My eyes felt incredibly heavy.

Gibbs barely moved beside me, his heat persistent and strong.

My fingers felt too numb.

_Will._

"Then why become a pirate?"

Beside me, on my step, little icy droplets slapped against the brown wool as Gibbs turned back to me, his boots shifting slightly on the lower step. His breath was low and deep.

The wind howled away in my ear.

"Because life means nothin' if yer never get to be free."

"And piracy is freedom?"

"Why not?" Gibbs' massive roll of his shoulder caused me to look at him again, shifting my eyes and turning my face so that my head still rested on the wooden barrier and my eyes now fell on the chubby, portly man.

The wind gnawed against the restraining neck muscles.

My wood swayed beneath our feet.

My eyes felt heavy.

"Well," a shiver trembled through me as I spoke out loud, my voice hoarse against the ups and downs of the roaring cold wind, "There's always going to be someone after you. In the end, you're going be captured, or killed anyway. "

"Not if yer good enough."

"Like Sparrow?"

"Aye, lass….true, de captain's gone taken a couple of times, but he's always find a way out of all of it. Yer see…a pirate's as good as his escape."

"How many times?"

"Uncountable, lass."

A shrug rippled through my weary, hidden shoulders as I gazed over at the older pirate, my head leaning back against the swaying, rocking wood. My tongue felt bitter.

Jared was yelling something, somewhere.

Voices mirthed the bleak, grey world.

I sighed.

"Well," I closed my eyes momentarily, shutting them away from the blinding wind and the pinprick of icy raindrops, letting the sigh breathe its way through me, "It's only a matter of time before someone kills him. For good."

"Aye…perhaps it will be yer who will have de honour."

I blinked my eyes open, awake, to stare once more at the pouchy, wet-lined cheeks, the white, kempt beard and the stirring, grey eyes.

Water dripped off his jaw at a slow, tedious speed.

His hair was still flipping in the icy gale.

_What?_

"You want me to kill your captain?"

"Death is a path dat all must take, lass," Gibbs shrugged a little as his met his warm, grey-streaked eyes with mine, water shaking off him still like wet dog, "Even Captain Jack Sparrow must meet his end."

"This is because I killed that siren, right?"

"Aye, dat and yer mightily fine pirate too."

"I'm not a pirate," I scrunched my eyebrows together despite the weariness, the lethargy, yielding the blanket closer as I frowned at the bulging, round pirate, "Never was and never will be."

A chuckle, a groaning chuckle escaped the older man as his thick lips quirked upwards in an awkward smile.

A loud yell ascended from one of the other ships.

The wind felt like icy talons.

"Yer say dat as if yer mean it."

"I do."

"No ordinary girl could have done what you did."

"I'm ordinary enough."

"Yer, yer from nowhere, waltzed yer way into dis mission-"

"I had leeway, remember? The _Verdad_?"

"Still….yer just happened to have found Will's beatin' heart in dem Dead's Men Chest, on dat island."

"Well…that _was _pretty weird…."

"Aye…and den, yer went on to taming Jack, winning Will's heart-"

"I haven't won anyone's heart-"

"Maintainin' a care-less relationship with Barbossa, solvin' an ancient code on an ancient map-"

"Dude, it wasn't hard at-"

"Meetin' with an ancient, mad demi-goddess and makin' a friend out of her….not to forget yer deed of killin' dat siren on-"

"Luck."

"Luck?" It was Gibbs turn to raise a single eyebrow, to look at me with his warm, grey-streaked eyes and wobbly, drenched cheeks, "Yer riding everything on luck?"

"That's what everyone says, those who would talk to me anyway."

"Nay, lass," Gibbs leaned forward then, and in the midst of the chilling drizzle and the howling wind and the black, turning thunderheads above, the older pirate raised a drenched finger and tapped against the point of my nose, so very lightly like a gentle kiss of fluttering bug, "It ain't luck."

"No. I'm just a pirate."

"A good pirate."

I pulled the blankets tighter, squeezing the thick wool around my body, encompassing me like a cocoon safe for my legs.

The sea swelled beneath us again.

I shuddered.

_Will._

"So that's it?"

"Hm?"

"That's yer reason why I've done all those things…I'm…a…_pirate_?"

"Aye."

"Doesn't that seem a little too much for a pirate?"

"Lass, yer obviously don't know Jack dat well, do yer?"

For some reason, that made me smile; despite the pain in my face, the weariness of my muscles, I found it in me to offer the older pirate the smallest glimmer of a smile, a pale shadow in the gloom of the passing storm.

Scarlett was laughing again.

"I'm not a pirate, you know. Never was."

"Aye, lass, but just because yer were never somethin', doesn't mean yer can't be."

"The other pirates," I let my voice trail a litte as I looked over at him, the smile fading from my face, washing back into my bleak features, "They…they think I'm the devil or something. "

"Lass, dey think everythin' de devil."

"So you don't mind me? Even after every thing that happened?"

"Nay, lass…like I say…yer a damn good pirate. Now, give me dat hand of yours. I need to bandage it up-yer shouldn't have done dat, yer know, running out like dat by yourself. Dem waves could have gotten yer, yer fool. Yer got god's luck, dat's fer sure."

_You have no freaking idea._

**888888888888**

Dinner had been lovely.

Back on the _Flying Dutchman, _two ships down, all that was ever served was dried fish, tasteless and raw. It had a terrible odour, and though sometimes it came with a collection of dried beans, the dinner always left this torrid taste of fish in my mouth for hours.

Gibbs' fish was no less a fish, but at least it had a bit of mint in it.

Which of course started a debate among us on wherether mint was good on a fish or not.

….

Okay.

It was just Jared and I.

But you get my point.

It was still raining.

All around me, the world was cool and quiet, the whispering night shifting about in the gentle gloom; the rain was nothing more then a drizzle but the air was still chilled, the wind still pulling and tugging the pale sails above, screaming to my bone. The wind was but a whisper now but it was still dreadfully cold, its breath numbing my fingers and gliding over my bare shoulders like a cold wave along a baking, sun-drenched shore. Even my legs, trapped as they were beneath the hard pants and metal boots, felt chilled and numb, as if I had been wading about in the cool spring water all day.

It was still raining.

And I was still wet.

Above, a thunder rumbled in the endless black sky; I could no longer see the thunderheads, yet I couldn't see the stars either. It was just an endless blanket of black above, hanging low, shifting and pulling, wailing in a soft, icy moan. The sea was silent, as if it were holding it's breath; off to the ship's left, tiny blots of light identified _The Black Pearl_ wading beside us, creeping through the silent night, through the dazzle of shimmering rain drops and pulling breeze. _The Flying Dutchman _was invisible though, hidden in the darkness, away from everyone's eyes.

_Will._

The wind kissed against my ear.

A shiver ran my spine.

Sparrow was still before me.

He was just standing there, in his usual slumber, leaning upon the ship's wheel as he gazed down at the compass clasped in his right hand. He was as he usual was; his dark, rain-dotted hat sat atop his head, his black beaded dreadlocks spilling beneath it in a tipsy, topsy manner. They turned and twisted in the shivering breeze, spiralling about his black clad shoulders, _clicking _beads against beads. Even the small beads of his beard twisted about, dark they were in the shadows and gloom of the passing day. Silver droplets of rain dotted the uneven black.

It truly was cold.

Miserably cold.

As I was, he was wet, more so then me perhaps; his face and clothes were completely drenched and as the captain shifted about on his post at the wheel, staring intently down at the compass, water dripped from his propped elbows and bunched hair, dripping and dropping along with the cold, needle-like drizzle. Silver water trailed down his face and off his sharp, defined jaw, his glinting eyes bent in the trembling darkness; suddenly, out of nowhere, in the shivering, wet gloom and the pale cast of the lamp at his feet, I realised something.

Captain Jack Sparrow was handsome.

Yes, I know I've said it before.

I know I had once said that Sparrow was actually good-looking.

But now, standing here, at the edge of _Betty_'s helm, staring at the humming man, at his twisty moustache, his orange skin, the snake of a wayward smile casting about in the gleaming shadows, at the wet, leather coat carving along his broad shoulders…

_Stop it, Joey._

_Stop it this instant._

_Unbelievable, really; first, Will. Now what? Sparrow? SPARROW?_

_Have you completely lost your head or something?_

With a quick breath of the rain-tainted air and sweet, cold wind, I blinked my eyes and shook my head, knocking away all stupid thoughts like a gale tearing off the golden leaves of a tree.

_Stop it._

"Jack."

At his post, at the wheel, Captain Jack Sparrow's quirking lips lifted by just a little, his eyes still strained on his compass, his other hand wounded limply around the wooden wheel.

"We're on first name basis now, are we?" he spoke in a quiet voice, almost as soft as the howling, cold breeze, but it was only obvious that he found something funny; there was an odd smile in his voice, an odd humour that seemed to shimmer about his lips and dance in his hidden eyes.

Flecks of raindrops gathered on my eyelashes.

My fingers felt no life.

My hair was getting wet again.

"I want to talk to you," I cleared my throat, ignoring his humour as an irritation riled its way through me again; the wind was beginning to pull at my hair, tugging along the knots, flecking it drenched.

I was becoming wet all over again, the raindrops hitting against me like bullets, sharp and cold.

The ship seemed completely calm beneath us.

I shivered again.

"Jack-"

"If yer wanted to talk to me, yer could just talk, eh? What's de need for first name, when yer never gave it?"

"I wanted to apologise."

"Ah!" With a snap, Sparrow clenched his hand over his compass and with his quirky, infuriating smile stretching farther across his face, leaped his dancing, kohl-rimmed eyes up at me, the fire in them bright and transcendent in the orange glow of the shivering lamp. Shadows leaped about his face, like dancers on a stage; in the light, the silver traces of rainwater on his face seemed to glow a bright gold, his eyes like beacons of fiery light.

My stomach turned up a notch.

"I hope this isn't amusing you."

"On the contrary luv, it rather is."

"I came to apologise, _Sparrow,_" I curled my lips as my arms subconsciously made to wrap around my body, my brow tilting together into a growing frown, "I came to say sorry….sorry about eavesdropping on you and Circe. It was…wrong, and not in my place, but if you're too much an idiot to care-"

"Tell me, luv, what yer hear, or were yer too busy snogging yer way through the eunuch?"

"Will's not a eunuch."

"Yer sure about that?"

"Sparrow, ple-"

"Now what happened to me first name, eh savvy?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" I practically growled, my numb, lifeless fingers squeezing together in the cold, my brow furrowed down all the way as my lips twisted away in a full-blown frown, "Seriously? Can't you just take my apology and be done with it?"

"Not when yer not sorry fer it, eh savvy?"

And with that, Captain Sparrow turned his head away from me and back towards the blankness in front of us, of the darkened and the pulling sea, grey sails in the swirling black. His lips were still tweaked in his humoured smirk.

The drizzle was lessening, its' drops fewer, its pace slower.

The wind tugged against my loose sleeves, flapping it about.

A thunder rumbled overhead, like the groaning of a sleeping animal, stretching in its slumber.

Fury raced through my cold, icy veins.

"I _am _sorry!"

"No, yer not."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, yer not."

"Yes!"

"No."

"YES!"

"Nope."

"YES!"

"N-"

"You know what?" I breathed in through my nose vigorously, shaking the whipping strands of wet hair from my face as the breeze kicked up a notch, pushing cold daggers against my raging body, "You're right. I'm _not _sorry! Not the least bit."

"Knew it."

"You're an asshole, you know that?" I leaned forward a little as my arms pressed deeper against my body, hot blood pulsing through me and warming my fingers as I glared daggers at the nonchalant, smirking man, "Here I am, trying to apologise, when all you do is act like everything that's coming out of my mouth is a giant joke!"

"Luv, when yer speak, it most likely-"

"I'm sorry, Jack!" I threw my hands out as I screamed, practically screamed into the turning breeze, letting the fury within me rage out like a freak storm, my lungs tight as the words ripped from my lips, "I'm sorry for eavesdropping on a conversation between you and Circe, a conversation that wasn't any of my business, alright? I'm…I'm also sorry for thinking that you would care for a _sincere _apology-"

"Yer brother made yer do it, now didn't he?"

"It…It doesn't matter. The point is, that I did it."

"Though yer don't mean it."

At that, I bit back my words and stared at him, at his smirking face and his smirking eyes, and his smirking, infuriating everything; the sight of him, standing at the wheel, gazing over at me with _that _look….

"Fuck you."

"Speakin' in yer weird tongue again, now are yer?"

"Fuck you!" I spat out the words, my eyes hot with anger, my veins practically bursting with fire, my heart hammering like the thrum of a helicopter, "Fuck you Fuck you for the time you convinced us to steal the Verdad, nearly having us killed! Fuck you for taking my jewels and swords when it wasn't yours to take! Fuck you for _dumping us_ on that island, in the middle of nowhere! Fuck you…oh! Fuck you, for the time that you refused to help us when we told you we were from the future and all you did was _act _like you didn't believe us! Fuck you, for all the times that you've _touched _me without my freaking permission! Fuck you, for…for that freaking smirks of yours-"

"Obviously, dis word…fuck….is it? Obviously, it's a bad word, eh savvy?"

That was it: with a sharp intake of my breath, I flipped him a rather numb, rigid finger and turned away, pivoting on my heels in the gentle drizzle, my hair spinning about in a wet, clumpy mess. My heart surged with adrenaline, my veins burning with liquid fire; with clenched fists, I shook my face off the frail, bitter droplets and marched away from Captain Jack Sparrow, my feet thundering against the sleek wood, the breeze slapping against my wet skin. The wood creaked and moaned beneath me as I charged towards the helm steps, each step fuelled with fire; I was so sick of him. So sick of his smiles, and his smirks, and his twisty midnight hair, and his stupid hat, and his glinting beads, and his red sashay, and his metal boots, and his gleaming, dark eyes-

_Why, of all the people in this darn century, do you have to put me with this one, God? _

_Why?_

_Oh right!_

_I forgot!_

_You're not suppose to exist; Gods, then! You stupid, freaking, motherfuc-_

"Come here fer a moment, luv."

"No!" I threw the shout over my shoulder as my right foot hit against the top step, my body still rigid straight, my veins pumping and thrumming with roiling energy; I just wanted to punch something, to sock it good right in the middle and leave it spewing blood and burning to death. I just wanted to hit something real ha-

"Come on, luv. I need yer help."

"No!"

_Why don't I just stick one right through him?_

_I have my sword now; I could just leap around, grab the sword and stab right through his miserable heart. I could just murder him, right here and now, and end his stupid, miserable son of a bitch-_

"Luv, I seriously need yer help."

"Fine."

With a sigh, I turned around and walked up the few steps again, letting the sigh stretch through my body, sinking my bare, wet shoulders down against the cold, slapping breeze; I could still feel it, the anger, the irritation, burning its way through me but I swallowed it.

Just for a moment.

"What?" I said as spitefully as I could as I approached the man, my boots thundering along with the rumbling, echoing above; in front of me, Sparrow had gone back to his original post, his left arm draped around the large wheel, his other hand clenched hard around his odd compass. Black dreadlocks, pale-beaded in the lamp light, shivered in the frosty chill as he was, once again, gazing down at the compass, his gleaming, Indian Ink eyes hidden away in the misty shadows. His lips were hidden from view.

The flame within the lamp, the lamp that sat at his feet was shivering away, casted shifting shadows all about him, dancing gold and white like playing mirages.

The breeze giggled with his clumpy hair.

He was handsome.

Even then.

_God._

_I have to go cut myself now._

"WHAT?"

"Come over here."

"Look idiot, I don't want to be near you any longer so what the fuck-"

"Just shut yer mouth and get over here."

With a sigh, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath of rainy, salty air; then, with a quick blink and a loud groan, I walked towards the man with slow, deliberate steps.

My feet felt like lead.

As I moved forward, the captain's eyes remained on his wondrous compass, his head still bent, his lips still hidden yet, with a single stride, he took a step back, away from the large wheel. His left hand was still draped along the wheel's side like a curtain, limp and lifeless. The wind fluffed up my yellow shirt at the bottom, by just a little.

The rain was becoming lesser.

The rage felt like an inferno within me.

"Take de wheel."

"Why?"

"Just do it, luv."

I don't why I bothered, but I did just that; with another loud, irritated groan, I walked up to Sparrow and in turn, took his place at the wheel, putting my hand gently down upon the wooden structure. He gave little space between himself and the wheel, and I had no idea what struck me as sane as to step so near to _that _man; I did it anyway, sliding in the space before him and grabbing a stem of the smooth, soaked wheel with my left hand, as far away from his own as possible.

My right hand grabbed the other side, palm clenching around the damp, oil-coated wooden stem lightly.

I don't know why I did that, why I came back to him, and put myself so near him. I was mad, raging mad; I could it burning within me, a pyre of wood, torching into the black night. I was furious, agitated, so bloody annoyed.

Yet….

The wheel was nice.

"What are you up to, you bloody i-"

And then it happened; as I turned my head back slightly, arms propped in front of me, hands held loosely around two stems of the large wheel, blood surging with lessening rage, Captain Jack Sparrow moved his left hand.

Like a flash of lighting shredding through the sky.

I could barely breathe, barely think before Sparrow's coarse fingers were around my wrists, tight and iron, fierce and strong.

_What the-_

There was a rope in his hand all of a sudden, a rope that was not there before, a rope I hadn't seen before; but it was there, long and wet and hairy, a flash of yellow yarn. A gasp spilled out of my lips, but I was too slow; the rope went round and around and around, before I couldn't even comprehend what was going on.

_What the-_

"HEY!" I finally caught up; with a loud yell, I began to fight back, to pull my hands away from the wheel, to move my legs, to get me away, but I wasn't strong enough. I tried to push back against him, to push my entire weight against him but Sparrow was pressing on me, his body hard against mine, his arms over my shoulders, pulling the ropes round and round.

Yarns scratched against my wrists.

_Fuck._

"What the hell are you doing?"

He just chuckled in my ear.

I didn't know what was going on, didn't understand it; I screamed, pulling my hands, my legs, my body, pushing shoulders, elbows, knees. I banged myself around, pulling my muscles as I tried to free my hands, to get away from Sparrow, to run…

But it was no good.

No good at all.

I had no idea how, I had no idea why but the next thing I knew, I was standing there, both hands bound to the large wheel with thick, yarn rope tied around the axel. My wrists were down, my hands immobile; the rope cut over my wrists, setting down the clenched fists onto the woods in between the stems. I couldn't move them at all, couldn't move my wrists out and about; they were bonded, the yarn tight as hell over my skin, trapping me in place. My arms jiggled and jangled, trying to pull free, but my hands were trapped, tied tightly to the wheel. Yarn burn into my skin.

_What the-_

"LET ME GO!" I screamed as I began to trash about, pulling and tugging and heaving, scraping my skin against the harsh yarn as I pulled my entire body weight against it. Desperation surged through me, alive and kicking, twisting at my stomach; a feet pushed against the large wheel as I pulled and pulled, my arms muscles screaming in agony, the yellow sleeves dancing in the wind. My sword was there, at my belt, hanging by my thigh; all I had to do was reach down and pull it out and cut myself free, but the bounds were too tight. I couldn't move my hands at all, no matter how hard I tried.

There was a pressure in the wheel, a mild pressure, but I didn't care; all I wanted to do was to be free, to get my hands out, turn around and strangle Sparrow to death.

"JACK SPARROW!"

"Ah, don't worry about it, luv. De currents weak tonight, and de rain should stop any minute. Besides, I need me rest for tomorrow."

"SPARROW!"

"Ah, so we're back on me last name, now are we eh?"

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, I SWEAR TO GOD-"

"Dink it as a trainin' luv, trainin' for becomin' a part of me crew."

"WHY YOU-LET ME GO THIS INSTANT! YOU….WHO THE HELL GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO TIE ME UP, CREEP? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, luv."

**TA-DA!**

**Anyway, sorry about this chapter. A little pointless and it took a long time to do, but it's there! Once again, thank you to all of you who review this story. It really is my fuel, so thanks lots!**

**XOXO**


	40. The Whispering White

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**For this chapter, I'm just jumping right in. It was a bit uncomfortable to write, but I guess I just wanted to quicken up the pace of the story. Enjoy!**

All I could see was white.

Pale, shifting white.

Pale, shifting white that swirled about aimlessly, languid and slow, like an ocean's depth, still and silent.

Pale, shifting white that shivered like falling ashes.

Cold, dead ashes.

Before us was nothing, nothing but the endless white, nothing but the chilling damp and eerie silence; far below, beneath the breathy quiet, the silent white, the waves lapped against the hull of the ships, repetitive and soft, filling the world with its gentle _slap, slap, slap._ There was no sound, no other sound beside the white waves kissing against the wood below us, invisible to us all; all that mattered was the white before us, the white with no end, the white that twisted and spiralled and danced around in a slow ballad, swirling high and below, a blanket of absolutely nothing.

A blanket of mist.

Above us, above our still heads, the sails were quiet, limp and pale in the white, nearly invisible in the hazy gloom; they barely moved, pale ghosts, shifting spirits, swaying in an unfelt breeze, phantoms breathing above us in slow, tired breaths. There was no wind, no frail gale, no chilling breeze of before; yet, the ships still moved, their sails gliding through the breathing white, the bows piercing through the endless fair.

The still fair.

All I could see was white.

Pale, shifting white.

No one spoke.

All around me, the pirates were silent, still and quiet, eyes wide, lips unmoving; they stood all around the deck, the hard wooden deck of the _Flying Dutchman_ covered with their still statues, grim and silent, staring at the quiet white before us with wide, unflinching eyes. The floor was wet, and ropes hung loose; but no one spoke.

No one dared speak.

All around me, the world was silent, the white shifting and dancing to its own silent tune, breathing around us, slow and quiet.

Alive.

The mist was alive.

There was no other explanation for it.

It was as if, perhaps, that we were trapped, trapped in this world where was all was white and silent, where colour was gone, and life breathed through the silent mist. A world where the only sound was the waves slapping against wood, and the only sight was the mist, the cold, quiet mist, moving about like a predator, watching from below and above, waltzing among us like ghosts of dead men past. Its breath was cold as ice, it's kiss like a winter's breath soaked to the bone; it was as if the mist had hands, hands that clapped over our mouths, hands that held our throats and grasped our hearts still with quiet.

It was as if the mist was alive.

Breathing.

Moving.

Alive.

I couldn't breathe.

"Are we dead?" I whispered, my words lost in the white before us, my eyes trained on the endless pale that played and danced slowly, kissing my skin with cold lips. My breath, my voice came out even softer then a whisper, my fingers rigid at my side; all that was before me was silent, silent white staring at me, shifting and moving, quiet like a predator encircling its prey, ready to pounce.

A prey that now swam right into its depths.

There was a cold, a horrid cold that clung to everything, a cold silence that filled our world with a pulling dread.

No one spoke.

_Slap, slap, slap._

My heart barely moved.

Beside me, standing like a statue, iron manacles clanging in the drifting mist like the moans and laments of drowned sailors and tortured souls, Circe spoke, her voice like the chords of a strange instrument, soft and quiet, breathy like the white itself.

"Do you remember dying, child?" she spoke, her voice a whisper in my ear, her chains clinking in slow tones, rattling in a quiet song.

"No."

"Then no. We're not dead."

"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better."

The wood creaked beneath our feet, the water's slaps filling the air like low, dull thuds.

The sails were like pale banners, rolling up and down slowly, like white waves reeling through the gasping white.

Everyone was silent, not a word or breath staining the silent world.

My insides churned.

_Why the hell am I here again?_

Off to my left, towering beside me like a pinnacle of ice in the middle of all this white, Jared's hand was like an iron clamp over my wrists, cold and hard, damp with sweat.

"Maybe it's just a mist," he whispered, his voice completely quiet, his breath short, "Maybe it's just an ordinary mist and we're all just making a big deal about it." His fingers were tight over my skin, like manacles, his voice like a breath of a frail breeze; through the slipping white, and the hushed, dead silence around us, I took in a low breath, my eyes still trained on shivering, quivering white and its unseen depths.

"Don't be moron," I whispered back, leaning a little into him as I stared out into the white wall, into the shifting shadows and the horrid stab of dread and horror through my still heart, "It's been eight hours."

"So?"

"So? Who's ever heard of a mist lasting eight hours?"

"Well, Bradley once told about this time, when he went fishing with his dad near the-"

"Oh, hush Jared!" my whisper came out sharp as I stared ahead, at the sighing mist, at the fog that glided all around us, encompassing us in its air-tight threat, "This is different!"

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

_Bloody sceptic._

How do I know?

_How do I know_?

How _didn't _he know?

Couldn't he feel it?

Couldn't they all feel it?

Couldn't they feel the way the mist watched us, the way it slithered around us in its depth of white, a predator circling its prey, a shark rounding up it lunch?

Couldn't they feel the mist hawking over us, its spirits, its children, laughing through its white storm, charging around us, watching with bright, brilliant eyes?

Couldn't they feel the cool of the air, the horrid touch of the cold against the skin, like the tip of a sword pressed against our necks, or ice-cold hands wrapping around us, strangling us to death?

Couldn't they feel the whispers and the moans, and the laughs and the taunts, and the eyes, the horrid eyes that watched us all from everywhere….

_Couldn't they feel it?_

_Couldn't they tell it was all alive?_

"Do you smell that?" It was Scarlett who had said it, her mousy voice barely discernible in the white, in the soft lapping of the waves and the deafening silence that engulfed us all; I couldn't see her much but she was there, huddled at the other side of my brother, pressed against his hard body, her face invisible in the white. A cry, a cry like that of a dying animal echoed in her voice, the music in them gone, fear overriding everything.

Fear was bitter on my own tongue.

My stomach felt like twisted knots.

Someone was beginning to ramble off to the side, a quiet whisper, a holy prayer spilling out of from his lips as he chanted and stared at the never-ending, black white.

Circe's chains wailed softly through the air.

My heart was completely dead.

Jared's voice was louder now, louder and stronger as his fingers tightened over my skin, his shoulders squaring even more.

"Smell what, love?"

"That."

And I did. I did smell _that_; it was all I had been smelling, all any of us had probably been smelling all day long, since this freaking freak of a mist appeared out of nowhere during the night.

A smell that filled my entire world, that held my stomach in its grasp, that turned my tongue into dust, that hammered against my eyes and chest like beats of drum that never ended.

A smell that was clawing its way through me, ripping gashes through my heart, rattling nerve-wracking shivers down my bare spine and filling my mouth with pure disgust.

A smell that was driving me insane.

A smell of rotten flesh.

It was always there, no matter where I went, no matter how far down I went in the ship; the smell of blood, of death, of _rotting flesh…_

I couldn't place it.

I just couldn't.

There was something wrong, something wrong about everything and my entire body was fighting against it, struggling against something I wasn't even sure that existed.

As if it were in me now, thrashing through my body, rippling beneath my skin.

As if the mist was a part of me, as much as it watched me.

As if I had been consumed by the white entirely.

Or not.

Maybe.

I don't know.

None of this made sense.

I mean, how strange is that, the mist in me?

How crazy is that?

_How crazy am I?_

"I smell it," I managed a soft mutter in reply as I stared out straight ahead, at the whisking mist, at the invisible eyes; I couldn't explain it but I was frozen, frozen in my brother's grasp, my feet still on the dank wood, my breath squeezed tight in my lungs. My eyes were still and beneath, beneath everything, my heart felt completely and utterly dead.

As dead to the life I once lived.

Off to the side, the pirate's rambling had increased an octave, his pace accelerating, his voice rising with a growing frantic that sounded like the whining of a engine picking up speed.

There was something wrong.

Something horribly wrong.

_Slap, slap, slap._

"Circe," I breathed out slowly as I gazed over at her, tilting my head slightly, shifting in the whispering mist to look at her, "Circe, what is this?" My breath felt shaky, my chest tight, my throat narrow; beside me, standing still in the shivering mist, a mirage in the pale shadows, Circe kept her still eyes forward, her dark face blank of any emotions. The pale blue of her dress looked like the mist itself, blending perfectly into the dancing white, into the leaping fair; she looked like a ghost, a spirit, alone on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, shivering, weeping chains moaning around her wrists, her dark hair trickling around her pale shoulders, gloom in all the white.

Her lips were drawn in a straight line, her chin high, her back straight.

The chains moaned softly in the white.

My heart barely stirred.

"The obstacle, child," she spoke softly, her voice unearthly, like the low sounds of ringing bells, of a church bell far away in the distant mist, "The obstacle I warned you all of. This is it."

"A mist?" My eyes side-longed at her but my attention was on everywhere else, at the shifting shadows, the laughing white, the unseen eyes that watched us and studied us and waiting.

Waiting for something.

And the smell.

God, the smell.

My stomach was twisting hard around, convulsing tight and unbearable.

My tongue had lost all feeling.

"This is no ordinary mist, little one," her eyes were straight ahead, her smooth face barely moving, the pale of her dress quivering softly in all the white. Everything seemed deathly cold.

As if there was no warmth in the world.

_Something was watching us._

"I got that much….what is it then?"

"I do not know."

There was something in her voice when she said it, something odd and stranger then usual; but her face remained the same, still and silent, like a statue chiselled out of cold ice, perfect in the glooming, whispering mist.

Jared's fingers fidgeted above my skin.

My heart was so still within me.

I could barely breathe.

_Someone was watching us, and there was nothing to be done about it._

"Father of ours, thou who art in heaven, be thy name hallowed. Come thy…."

_Slap, slap, slap._

For the longest time, we all kept our silence, everyone of us, everyone on the three ships moving slowly through the shifting mist, our eyes trained on the leaping pale, on the fair shadows; there was no word, no sound safe the waves against the wood.

And the smell.

The gut-wrenching, god-horrid smell.

The smell of death.

My breath was locked away inside of me, trapped away from the cold world.

I couldn't feel my toes.

The white was silent.

_There was something out there. There had to be; something in all this fog, in this white, something watching us, getting ready to pounce, to murder us all in a river of blood, to feast on our flesh-_

"Circe."

It was Will, somewhere behind me, his voice low, a whisper in the midnight white; I didn't bother to look at him. I didn't bother to turn around and to stare at him, to look at his eyes, to meet them with my own, to reach forward…

No.

I just stared ahead, at the dull mist beyond the bow of the ship, at the predators, the eyes that swam all around, the eyes that watched us, waiting for us.

Waiting to eat us.

_God._

I just stared ahead.

No.

I couldn't look away.

I wriggled my hand down until my fingers met my brother's, and without a word, I grabbed his hand tight, pressing deep into his skin, my breath frozen away like ice.

Jared squeezed back.

There was something wrong.

Something so horribly wrong.

And I didn't know what the hell it was.

"Captain Turner," Circe's voice was distant, faded as I stared ahead at the mist, at the silent prowler right before us, the bow piercing through the thick wall, the scent of rot sour and raw at the back of my throat. My heart felt like ice, my senses numbed away to non-existence.

_Am I going mad?_

_Or am I just frightened, frightened over something that wasn't even there?_

Or was it?

I didn't know.

I didn't know anything.

There was a blur in my mind, a constant blur, and a feeling, a feeling of being watched, of being hunted, of something in me readying to rip me to bitter shreds.

There was so many words and emotions, so many thoughts, and yet my heart was still, dead-still, as if there was no more life in me.

I didn't know.

I didn't know anything.

The smell, the cold, the eyes….

I didn't know anything anymore.

I didn't know.

The white.

That was all I knew; the white surrounding me, watching me….

_God._

I didn't know.

Will's voice was like a distant memory.

"What's happening, Circe?"

"Call the other Captains, sir. I have a feeling we all need to talk."

**88888888**

I was going insane.

We were going insane.

That had to be it.

That had to be why none of us spoke, why our lips were sealed, why our hearts breathed not a word.

That had to be why we watched the gliding mist silently, our eyes bright, our minds numb, our necks aching.

That had to be why we were all just silent, rooted at our place, watching the bows break through the white, the never-ending white, the hopeless, dreadful, weeping white.

That had to be why.

We were all going insane.

I was going insane.

Behind me, they whispered, their voices sharp and rising, muttering and clashing, hoarse and individual on its own; Barbossa was the most obvious, his coarse voice an awful whisper, his slurs and words riching through the silent, icy air in distant echoes. Somewhere with him, somewhere behind me, Sparrow answered his every query with his quick words, his deep voice barely a whisper, strong yet softer then usual, mirthed with something I could not recognise. Yet, it was his voice, for it was only Captain Jack Sparrow who spoke like that, who lilted his words like that, who breathed mild amusement into every breath even when he probably never meant.

Like now.

He couldn't possibly find anything funny about now.

And then there was Will, his voice a harsh whisper, rapid, quick, angry yet different too, somehow different in a way I just couldn't place-

But I didn't care.

I couldn't.

Not with the mist watching me.

Not with its eyes watching my every move, its endless depth calling me, luring me.

I didn't care.

Not now.

All around us, there was no time. The light of the world, the faded pale light of the mist never changed; I couldn't see the sun, but I knew it had been hours since morning, hours since the mist first arrived out of the cold, grey waters.

Or was it?

Had it really been hours?

Or was it all a dream?

For it felt like a dream, a dream of a dream, somewhere in the dark recesses of my imagination.

No.

A nightmare.

Was this just a nightmare?

"What's going on?" Jared's shivering voice whispered through the air, from where I did not know, somewhere on the ship for all I could see was the mist, and only the mist, "Are we dreaming?" The white before me was stirring, drifting beneath the onslaught of the slow-moving bows; it was just white, no black, no colour just pure, plain white, weeping all about, gliding here and there, watching.

Waiting.

I could taste something rotting at the back of my throat.

Something rotting, something vile.

My mind was numb.

"I don't know," I answered back, staring out into those eyes, into those millions and millions of eyes; but my voice was strange. It felt far-away, as if someone else was speaking for me and though I felt my lips move, though I felt my throat bulge, my voice was not mine.

Not mine.

Not anymore.

_It was a dream, wasn't it?_

_It had to be._

"…. forgive us of our guilts as also we forgive our guilty, and do not lead thou us into temptation…"

_Slap, slap, slap._

The mist just stared at me.

Watching me.

Waiting.

_Waiting for what?_

I had to be going mad, had to be, for this was insane. Either that, or I was dreaming; the mist was moving, and breathing and alive and there was nothing I could do but stare. I didn't want to stare, didn't want to stare at it, and its leaping and dancing white skirts, and its frails shadows and gripping cold hands; but I couldn't look away. I couldn't look away from the white, from all the white and when I did, for just a second, it was still there, watching over me, pulling at my heart, plunging against my body, screaming at me with pure fear.

For I was frightened.

Horribly frightened.

Terrified.

But I couldn't do anything.

I couldn't turn it off.

I couldn't hide away.

_It has to be a dream._

_It has to be._

_There was no other explanation._

_Jared thinks it's a dream too._

_Shouldn't it be then?_

_Shouldn't it be a dream?_

_Shouldn't it….I don't remember telling Jared though, about how I thought it was dream?_

_Had I said it?_

_Am I speaking out loud now, and all my words were actually thoughts?_

_Am I doing things in reverse?_

_Am I going crazy?_

There was a shiver in the air that just wouldn't go away.

"…thine is the kingdom and power and glory forever and ever…."

My heart felt like ice.

Behind me, far behind me, in the distance which I not cared for, the captain's voices had lowered, their whispers hushed and faded, their words lost in all the white.

The white.

The never-ending white.

They were watching me, watching me with those eyes, those thousands, millions of eyes, prodding out of the all the white, invisible, never seen. They were watching me closely, and circling me, circling us, moving around and around and around and around and around…

I was going mad.

I was going mad.

Those creatures, that _thing_….

There was something in the mist.

There was something.

Something evil.

Something that smelled like death.

Something that glared at me from its hole.

Something evil.

Something that wanted me dead.

I was going to die.

The mist was going to get me.

It was going to get all of us.

It was going to get my brother.

It was going to get Will, and Scarlett and Barbossa and everyone.

Even Sparrow.

It was going to get Sparrow.

Everyone.

It was going to kill us all.

We're all going to die.

We all were.

There was no doubt about it.

We were going to die.

_Run, Joey! Run!_

But I couldn't; I couldn't move my legs, couldn't move my lips and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't feel.

My heart was still and I couldn't feel.

My fingers were numb and I couldn't feel.

The terror was there but…but…_I couldn't feel._

I don't know how to explain it.

I was frightened.

I was terrified.

I wanted to run, to hide away from those eyes, from the mist…

But I couldn't.

I couldn't do anything.

I wasn't me.

I wasn't me at all.

_I'm dreaming._

_Please tell me I'm dreaming._

"Amen."

There was yell, a cry of a desperate man, a mad man, before the scream faded into the unblinking white like a forgotten dream before a splash, a loud splash of water filled the air.

As if something had dropped right into the misty sea.

_What was that?_

_Did someone jump-_

_No._

_That's not important right now._

_No._

_The mist is important._

_There was something wrong, something wrong with the mist._

_Something out to get me._

_Out to get us._

Someone was beginning to cry.

_Will._

_I need to save Will._

_I need to protect him._

_But I can't._

_There was no saving him._

_There was no saving us._

_The mist._

_The mist was going to kill us._

_It's going to rip us up, from the inside._

_We're going to die._

_We're doomed._

_The mist will des-_

_**Joey.**_

It was a voice, a clear, strong voice through all the fog, through all the clawing mist and the whispering, pulling white. It was like a loud bell, a clear, loud bell at the back of my head, whispering into my ear, strong and hard.

It was a voice.

An actual voice.

_Was it Jared?_

_It had to be…_

_He was near me, wasn't he?_

But this voice…

This voice…

It sounded like a flute.

And then it didn't.

I didn't know.

I couldn't tell.

There was only the mist, and all I could do was stare at it, stare at its endless bowel, at its white eyes glaring right at me through its eternal depths.

There was only the mist and its eyes, and its smell of death, of pure blood, of violent battles, of horror and absolute terror.

There was the mist and its evil, its evil eyes, its evil hands reaching out, wrapping around my neck, holding me tight, squeezing-

_**Grab your sword, Joey.**_

It was a voice, a real voice, whispering in my ears, loud and strong, warm at touch; I didn't know why but when it spoke, when the words played out in my head, the mist blinked away for a second and all I saw was a flare of light, of a wonderful, bright light tearing through the darkness, warm and alive.

Alive.

The mist was alive too.

The voice.

The voice couldn't be real.

No.

Not real.

The only thing that was real was the mist, and its icy grasp, its watching eyes, it snarling, sharpen, white, white teeth.

The mist.

That was all there was.

The horrible, unbearable mist.

_Will._

_I need to get to Will._

_I need to protect him._

But I can't.

He was going to die.

I was going to die.

We were all going to-

**Listen to me, Joey. Grab your sword.**

Sword.

Sword?

Why?

Why must I take-

No.

No.

The voice.

The voice wasn't real.

It sounded like a flute, like a dancing flute, so beautiful and magical and enchanting, like a lullaby-

No.

No.

It wasn't real.

The voice wasn't real.

Only the mist was.

Only the mist was real.

Only the terrible mist, and its eyes, its millions and millions of eyes, watching me, waiting,

Waiting.

_Will._

I can't save him.

I can't.

He was going to die.

Will was going to die.

Will and Jared and Sparrow and Gibbs and Scarlett and Barbossa and Lestrade and Will-

_**Take your sword.**_

My fingers flew automatically, faster then anything and before I couldn't even feel it, before I could even think, my hand had fallen down and grasped the gold hilt of the sword, fingers wrapped around it tightly. The metal, the spiralled metal was cold as ice beneath my skin, stinging a fiery bitter; a flash, a flash of brilliant, gold light ripped through my mind the moment the icy metal kissed against my skin, exploding furiously, bright and vibrant, warm with life.

Alive.

Something alive exploded within me.

And then, all of a sudden, my eyes blinked, and my lungs heaved out a loud, tiring gasp; there, before me, was the mist, the white mist encircling us, trapping us but now…

But now…

It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes, the fog cleared from the panes; before the ships was the mist, and only the mist. There was no more horror, no more utter terror bubbling its way beneath my skin, no eyes watching and waiting; beneath my fingers, beneath my tightly-wound fingers, the gold hilt bloomed a sudden warmth, a wonderful warmth, comforting in the frosty cold, a tantalizing warm that surged through my blood, through my body. Every part of me sprang to life; my lungs gave out as the terrible hold of my chest was released, my throat widening as the warmth rushed about beneath my skin. My eyes felt like wounds as they blinked back into existence.

Alive.

I was alive.

My chest heaved in and out as I gasped, taking in the bitter air, my eyes blinking at the staring, silent mist.

My muscles stretched awake beneath my skin.

My heart shivered to life with a bang.

_What in the name-_

With a loud gasp, I turned from the mist, pulling my eyes away long enough to stare down at my right side; through the shivering mist and wavering white gloom, hooked at the side of my belt with my fingers tight around it, my sword seemed to be glowing, it's sharp blade a streak of bright silver stretching to the floor. The gold hilt shimmered with an unusual cast, its elaborate, elegant designs spiralling about the gold in a strange, warm glisten. There was a glimmer to the whole thing, a glimmer I had never seen before, a soft glimmer that shone bright and warm against the brown of my pants, brilliance amidst the wavering, sneaking bitter mist.

A golden brilliance.

A golden glow.

I had never seen it do that before, nor have it feel so warm, so right in my palm; and yet, I refused to let it go.

I couldn't.

The mist was quiet all around, whispering, pulling, cold and miserable and bitter.

And dead.

It was dead.

It still smelt dead.

But somehow, _somehow_, I no longer felt the need to run, to hide away.

Somehow, it wasn't as if we were going to die any-

_**Hold on, Joey.**_

Without another word, without another thought, I tightened my fingers around glowing hilt and pulled it free, streaking the pale, shivering fair with a _flash _of brilliant silver, whipping through the reaching, cold hands. My arms muscles protested, whined in detest as if I had been sleeping for ages; but I persisted, pulling the blade away from my body and holding it tight before me, letting its warm glow, its warm heat burn through the icy haze. My eyes travelled up its spine, my hand holding the ardent sword right before my body; it shimmered before me in a pallor of brilliant silver, radiant against the encroaching mist, gleaming like a fine jewel.

Beautiful.

It was beautiful.

More beautiful then anything.

And strong.

And for a moment, as I stared at the slim blade, at its shivering glimmer, its perfect, silver-sharp edges and its strange, glowing words, I felt that this sword _was _mine.

Not some Balder.

Not Seadog's.

Mine.

It was my sword.

And with it, I could do just anything.

_I can do anything._

_I'm strong._

_I'm brave._

_I can do anything._

_I can do this._

Something in me woke like a savage animal, tearing down the walls, leaping into my fires, burning my heart alive.

Something strong and resolute and valiant.

Something alive.

_I can do this._

Without a word, without a single word, I stared once more at my sword, at _my _blade and then turned around, back towards the leaping mist, and shivering white that surrounded us all. My hair whipped against the side of my face and against my bare shoulders as I held the blade before me, arm a-ready, fingers tight, every muscle in my body preparing for what I knew not.

My breathing came out in ragged beat, hazy in the cold, misty air.

My heart was slamming away now, thrashing, head-banging.

It still smelt.

_Slap, slap, slap._

Before me, upon the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, everyone stood as they had before, still statues, gloom in the quavering, shifty mist, silent as the dead. There was absolutely no sound, no sound except the slapping of waves against the hull below, the gentle creaking of wet wood and above, above our heads, blending into the torrid mist, the sails were truly like ghosts, lamenting a soft requiem as they swayed and moaned in the misty, icy air. My breath was cold before me, a fog, a mist-

My sword was like a fire through the mist.

They all stood silently, gazing straight ahead, their lips pressed together, eyes wide and emotionless; I could barely see their faces in the mist, barely make out their features for they all looked like simple statues, carved into place upon the deck, an eerie scene right out of some Tim Burton movie. The whiteness, the pale, shifting whiteness-one that now, for some reason, did not seem so frightening anymore- whispered and slithered around them, encircling their ankles, wrapping its cold arms around their still bodies. Eyes were glazed over, as if they were no longer there, as if their minds had shut off, their bodies run down to non-existence. Their chests barely moved.

It was like staring at a Sudworth painting.

Times 10.

"Guys…." I let my voice trail and this time, somehow, my voice was back. It was no longer disembodied and strange, no longer like a forgotten dream; it came out of my lips like a cold shiver, whispering into the sweeping white, in the cold, horrid mist that surrounded us, caging us all. My heart shuddered beneath my chest as my fingers groped the warm gold hilt even more so; without a thought, my other hand swept through the icy white and grabbed the hilt as well, closing the sword away from my body, tilting it ever so slightly. The strange heat and glow washed against my face, warm and delicious; it felt so nice, the heat, stirring its way through my blood, fusing my body all the way from my ears to my toes. I felt so warm.

And yet, it was still cold.

Yet, something was still wrong.

_Very wrong._

What was going on?

Through the mist, through the playing, blinding, horrible bitter mist, I saw them first; Jared and Scarlett were the closet to me, standing where they had always been, off to my right. They were huddled together, their bodies leaning against one another, their faces almost hidden in the whisking, gliding mist; Jared's blue eyes pierced out of the white as he stared ahead, beyond the bow of the ship, his eyes soulless and dead. Not a trace of emotion passed over his face as he stared out behind me, his shoulders squared firmly, his massive arms hanging loose by his side. Droplets of water, of condensed water, dotted his gritty jaw, jewelling the rough brown hairs; he was silent, and unmoving, just staring out into the white wall without a single word, a single thought. Beside him, leaning gently against his arm, Scarlett was the same, her face blank, and her eyes dead. Her red hair, her brilliant red hair, hung limply down her back, bright in the dull of the shifting mist.

Not as bright as my blade though.

There seemed to be no other source of light around, besides my strange, glowing sword.

That and the unexplained phenomenal luster of the moving, bitter mist.

I was pretty sure my heart was head banging against my rib-cage now.

_Slap, slap, slap._

"Jared," with soft steps, I moved towards my brother, towards his shell, his emotionless, dead face, "Jared. What's going on?"

He didn't reply.

Instead, he just stared ahead, at the mist, his lips unmoving, his face chiselled and perfect like a stone statue.

Scarlett was exactly the same beside him.

Silent.

Dead.

Everyone was dead.

_No, Joey._

_Snap out of it._

_They're not dead._

_They're just…_

_Just…._

"Jared," I heard a whimper in my soft voice, a whimper I had not intended as I pulled away my right hand from the warm, glowing hilt to rest it on my brother's firm, leather-clad shoulder, "Jared….Jared, can you hear me?"

His shoulder was cold, cold as ice.

His eyes were completely blank.

_What was happening?_

_Why wasn't he responding?_

_Is it…._

_Why aren't any of them….._

_Maybe…_

_The sword._

_My sword._

_What-_

"Jared! Answer me, damn it! This isn't funny!"

But my brother wouldn't reply; as I swung the bright blade down to my side with my left hand, the heat still surging through me, warm and full of life, I gripped the leather of my brother's shoulder and shook it. My nails dug into the hide as I moved the sleeve up and down, glaring at my brother's face, my tongue turning bitter all over again.

My heart felt like it could just smash its way right through my body.

Something gnawed at stomach.

_What was going on?_

_Jared-_

_**Calm down, Joey. **_

Calm down.

Yes.

I had to calm down.

I had to calm down, so that I could figure out what was going on here.

So that I could think.

With a soft sigh, I gently let go of my hold on my brother, letting the leather crease back into place, my eyes still trained on his blank, dead face; it didn't make sense, now did it?

None of it made sense.

The mist had arrived during the early hours of the morning, as it did sometimes, but this one had lasted.

Lasted long into the morning.

Lasted until after noon.

This mist.

This chilling, frosty, bitter, horrid, foul-smelling mist.

_The smell of death._

And then, the eyes.

The millions and millions of eyes.

Eyes that weren't here anymore.

Eyes that no longer existed.

_Or did they even exist?_

_These eyes?_

_Had they even been real?_

_Was there really something out there, in this mist, watching me, readying to pounce on me?_

_Or had I been dreaming?_

_Dreaming…_

_Tricked?_

_Had I been tricked?_

_Was this all a trick?_

_If so, how?_

_How was that even possible?_

_Magic?_

_Bloody magic again?_

_And the sword-_

Will.

With a blink of my eyes, I turned away from my staring, lifeless brother and to the center of the ship, towards the three men standing there, staring into the chilling mist just like the others; I couldn't their faces, not clearly in all the shifting mist and whispering threads of white but Will was there, standing with them, staring blankly ahead, muscles slack, body dead. His arms hung loose by his side, and in all the fog, in all the reaching fingers of white, I could barely make out his face.

But it was him.

It was Will.

"Will!" I cried once, and then ran, holding my sword by my side, my feet thundering against the wood and echoing high up into the misty, shifty heavens. My blade shimmered and glimmered by my side as I ran, a daze of the soft golden glow, bright against the dank floorboards beneath us; with quick steps and ragged, foggy breath, I clamoured over to Will's side, stopping right before him, blade hot in my palm. My hair was stuck against the back of my warm neck.

A part of me wanted to barf away the putrid smell.

My heart screamed for attention.

_Slap, slap, slap._

"Will," I breathed, staring at him through the fog, through the quivering, muttering mist, through the gliding, reaching pale; he was as the others, still, silent, completely dead to the world. His tanned, smooth face was still before me, no lines, no emotions whatsoever; like Jared, his moustache and beard were dotted with silver water, the tips of his dark curls dripping slightly onto his white shoulders. Dark curls, messy and wild, framed his face before a small ponytail at the back, limp against his lifeless shoulders, his muscles slack and dead. His lips were pulled into a straight, thin line, his jaw firm and up above, above a lifeless face, above an unrecognisable face, Will's dark eyes were silent.

Silent.

Dead.

_God._

There was no fire, no usual fire burning in them, no toasting pyre leaping in wondrous colours; it was just dark, a lifeless, bleak dark, staring ahead into the impenetrable white mist, into its never-ending, hopeless white depths. There wasn't a single ounce of life in his eyes, not a single emotion, a single thought.

Silent.

Dead.

_God._

Just like Jared and Scarlett, Will was just a statue in a courtyard of silent sculptures.

A courtyard of mist.

"Will," I whispered, softly, moving so that I was in front of him and not the mist, not the encroaching, _evil _mist; to my right, Barbossa and Sparrow loomed quietly, just like the others, staring straight ahead into the white wall of shifting mist. Not a word, not a human sound filled the air-none, safe my ragged, pulling breathing.

All was quiet.

_Slap, slap, slap._

_Will._

"Will," I whispered again, my heart tugging as I closed on him, looking into his eyes, into his dead, lifeless eyes, stepping right in front of his face, "Look at me Will." The blade felt so delicious and comforting against my side; without a pause, I moved in closer, closer towards him, towards his silent face.

_Will._

There was nothing in his eyes.

Absolutely nothing.

No fire.

No life.

No Will.

_God._

_Please._

"Will," there was a whimper in my voice again, a soft whimper as I looked into his dead eyes, searching, raking for any sign of that glimmering, beautiful fire, "Will. Answer me." My breath came out as a cloud of mist against his orange face, my throat tight all over again. My heart seemed to be squeezing in on itself, strangling itself to death.

_Will._

Without another word, I reached up my right hand and cupped his jaw, pressing my thumb oh-so-lightly against his glazed cheekbone. My warm fingers kissed against his skin as I gently touched him, gazing as deep into his eyes as I could go; his skin was cold, icy cold, frosty and chilling as hell beneath my warm fingers.

As if he was dead.

Already dead.

"Will," I could barely hear myself as I leaned in against him, my breath tight, my heart slamming, my nose gently kissing against his as my fingers held on to his cold, cold face, "Will. It's me. Joey."

He did not answer.

For a moment or so, I just stood there, holding his cold face with a single hand, touching my nose against his icy one, breathing against his lips in thick fogs, being with him, holding him, holding back the tears that threatened to fall, silencing the crying and shrieking that lamented in my heart, staring and searching for the fire in his eyes.

For the life.

For Will.

Will.

_Will._

_Answer me._

_Please._

_You can't be dead._

_You can't all be dead._

_You're still breathing, aren't you?_

_You're still breathing-I hear your breaths._

_I see your chest moving._

_You're alive._

_You have to be._

_Answer me._

_Please._

_Answer-_

There was a sound, a soft, subtle sound off to the right but I turned anyway; my head barely moved but I was fast enough to see the flash of brown cloth disappear over the edge of the ship, falling away into the mist. My curls slapped against Will's still face but it didn't matter; for once in long time, William Turner didn't matter.

For once.

"Wait!" I practically shrieked through the quiet, through the swirling mist and ethereal fog all around us as my heart screamed to alert, my senses springing up in complete panic, "Don't!"

But it was too late; there was a splash, a loud splash and then, I was running, pulling away from Will's cold figure, turning away from his lifeless eyes, gripping my blade tighter then before and running towards the side of the ship, my feet like claps of thunder in the world of foul, horrid mist. My heart jumped up and down in my chest with anxiety as I ran, pounding through my skull, pounding through my warm blood.

_Wait._

_Please don't tell me that just happened!_

_Wait-_

"HEY!" I screamed as I finally reached the wooden barrier, the edge of the ghost ship, my body practically ready to throw itself overboard as I slammed into the hard wood and looked over the edge, my curls falling all about. My free hand grabbed the wooden edge, nails biting into the hard surface as I heaved myself forward, my curls grasping against my vision. My sword was still warm and alive by my side as I threw my head over the ledge of the ship.

And stared down into a sea of empty, white mist.

Of the never-ending mist.

_Great._

"HELLO!" I yelled down, calling; but all that there was was the mist, the shifting, gliding mist, a sea of mist, like waves of white rolling over one another. There seemed to be no end or start to it, no definite thing about it at all; it was everywhere.

Absolutely everywhere.

My heart felt like it had been stabbed all over again.

_There was something wrong here…_

_Something…_

_Something…_

"HELLO! ANYONE THERE?"

_Something evil._

For a moment or so, I just stood there, the sword warm against the side of my leg, my eyes trained on the shifting, gloomy mist below, at its tendrils and fingers moving around the ship with its own life. My tongue tasted bitter and raw as I stared down into the sea of white, raking, searching with all my might; I could see nothing, nothing but the rolling white waves and the shadows that leapt in them, the shadows of white that played and danced around the base of the ships like pure water itself.

Only this wasn't water.

_There was something very wrong here._

The world still smelt like rotting, putrid flesh.

My sword burned in my hand.

It was too quiet.

_Slap, slap, slap._

"IS ANYONE TH-"

"There's no use in yelling, little one."

I knew that voice, I knew it even as I gasped in surprise and jumped a little at my feet, my head spinning around through the reaching, cold mist in a quick, snappy blur of dark blonde curls. My heart jumped within my chest and a small squeak, just the smallest, escaped my lips in a breathy, quick white mist. My glowing, warm sword sprang out of my body, my hand moving it instinctively upwards. Alarm shot through my warm blood.

_Bloody hell._

Circe was there, sitting on the steps of the helm, a distant mirage in the whispering, creeping white mist. I could barely see her, what with all the sneaking white and leeching mutters, but it was her; she sat silently upon the steps, her blue silk dress flowing at her feet like a pale stream fresh in the morning haze. Her dark brown arms were folded upon her pale lap neatly, streaks of brown amidst all the dancing fair. Up above, beyond her heaving chest and broad, blue-clad shoulders, Circe's face was near invisible, her features lost away in the sweeping white that surround us all. Even her eyes were gone, hidden away, taken away in the moaning, lamenting, sprinting fog; the only thing I could truly see was her dark trickles of hair, flowing down her shoulders, elegant and beautiful, a painting in the mist. Cold, iron manacles circled around her feet.

She looked like a ghost.

A spirit of the fog.

_Great._

"Circe," I breathed out her name, my fingers still tight around the throbbing hilt, my breath ragged and thorn deep in my chest, "Circe. What the-"

"He's already gone, little one," She interrupted me in her usual way, her voice like the low sound of dripping water, clear in the lingering white, a soft ding of a distant bell, "He had join the others. There is no saving them."

I could not see her face, not properly, but I knew, I _knew_, that those horrid, dark eyes of hers were watching me, watching my every move, picking me out in all of this blinding, white mess. I could practically feel her steel rocks all over me, studying me, observing me….

_Like those millions and millions of eyes in the fog awhile back._

_Like a predator._

But no.

No, this was different.

Circe was a friend.

Wasn't she?

Wasn't she?

_Curse me and my growing paranoia. _

_What was even happening to me?_

_To us?_

My head felt like a muddled mess, as muddled as the white all around us, my thoughts churning at an uncontrollable rate.

My right hand gripped my warm blade as well.

My heart was pounding like a loud, beating drum.

_Slap, slap, slap._

"Others?" I frowned at her figure, at her serene, eerie figure upon the steps, my fingers wounding tighter around the warm, glowing hilt, "Others…Circe. What…W-What's going on?" Behind me, the deck was silent, quiet as before and I knew if I were to turn back, it would have all been the same.

They would all still be there, standing quietly amidst the leeching white, staring at the fog with lifeless, dead eyes.

_Something was so wrong…._

It still smelt like death.

"Circe-"

"The obstacle, child," She spoke as if she were commenting on a sports event, dry and emotionless, without a single thought, her face hidden away in the reaching white, "What else do you think is going on?"

"Obstacle?" The whimper was back in my voice as I widened my eyes at her figure, my fingers so hard and tight around the gold, burning hilt, my heart like a jig within my chest, "This….This thing? All of this…this…"

"Mist. Yes. The mist is the obstacle."

"I don't…." I took in a breath of cold, foul air, staring at her mist-swept figure, holding onto the sword with every strength of my body, "I don't…. the mist is the obstacle?"

"Yes."

"B-But…But I…I…. what's wrong with them, Circe? Why aren't they answering me? Why…Why are they…"

I let my voice trail off as the choke tightened around my neck, squeezing my voice away, clenching my heart in tight, hard fist; before me, half-hidden in the whispering mist, Circe kept her silence for awhile, her dark hair still, her dress like a flowing river of pale. Low, horrid _dings_ filled the air as the metal chains shifted and moaned in the sweeping white.

It sounded like the laments of the dead.

I could feel a sob coming.

I held on to my sword.

_Slap, slap, slap._

"Circe, I don't-"

"It is a spell, little one," her voice was smooth as ice, strange and spine-wracking in the wading, white mist and its icy cold touch. Chains groaned in the silence of the white, foul world.

My heart felt like it could shatter at any minute.

_What the-_

"A spell?"

"Yes."

"As…as in magic?"

"Yes."

I wanted to hold on to the sword, and never let it go; it was so warm in my grip, so warm and alive with strength, glowing bright, silver and gold, beautiful in the whispering foul. The ruby was red hot, like fire, beneath my thumb.

My blood was rushing like a fiery storm at sea, my thoughts tumulting out of control.

My breath was a shaky cold.

_Ok._

_Calm down, Joey._

_Calm down._

_Think._

_Think._

"Magic," I pretty much whispered, gripping the sword with my life, tongue bitter and vile, "Magic…This is magic?"

"Yes, little one."

"Magic…. but they aren't talking, Circe! They won't answer me, and their eyes-"

"It is magic, Joey," she spoke clearly, without a trace of emotion in her voice, "This is all, all of it, some sort of sorcery."

"Sorcery…."

"Stop repeating everything I say."

"But…But…I-I….I don't-"

"They are under a spell, little one," her voice was harder now, by just a little as she shifted her wrists, clanging the chains in awful, blood-chilling sound, "They all are, and the more time we spend talking, the more near they come to death."

"Death? What-"

"Already four have passed."

"I don't understand," my voice came out strong, desperation, confusion streaking through my words, my sword warm and alive in my grip, "I just don't understand-what kind of magic is this? I…I…. What is going on? What am I suppose to do? How…how is it that only you, and I are-"

"Stop your whining, child. It does us no good here."

"But, Circe, I don't under-"

"That's enough," her voice was curt now, as the clanging chains stopped their low lament, her voice harder and stronger, and her curls still in the whispering fair, "You don't need to understand. Not now. The only thing you need to do is save them."

"But-"

"This isn't important-"

"Circe! What is going on?"

For a moment, Circe paused, her words echoing off into the whispy, silent, white world, her figure fading away into the sneaking mist, like a painting being rubbed away by thinner; within me, within my still form, my lungs were heaving in and out, tight and uncontrolled, releasing my thorn, tattered breath in short, quick gasps. My heart was hammering away, loud and strong, painful against my chest; there was a desperation, an anxiety that gnawed its way through me, gnawing at my heart, at my sides with a bloody vengeance. My glowing, warm sword began to tremble in my hand.

_I don't know what's happening._

_I don't know where I am._

_All I know is that the something's wrong, and everyone else is in danger._

_Except me._

_For some reason._

_But bloody hell._

_Jared's in trouble._

_Scarlet 's in trouble._

_Will-_

"Circe," I breathed, staring at the silky blue, at those black tresses, at those shivering, moaning metal chains, "Circe. Tell me. What's going on?"

"Magic, child," a sigh slipped into her voice, the mist sweeping around her, playing about her solemn figure like some Gothic painting, some modernist art, "Strong magic."

"By whom?"

"I do not know."

"Can you stop it?"

"No. It's far too powerful for me."

The sword seemed to throb in my hand, like a warm, fiery heartbeat, pulsing through my body, through my veins.

My teeth were, for some reason, beginning to ache.

I wanted to puke.

_Fuck._

"Circe," I breathed out slowly, a chill, a tremor etched into my words, my eyes blinking slowly as the panic, the fear surged its way through me, rushing all over my skin, "That man. That…the man who just jumped off the side. He…Is he-"

"He is dead."

A sob, a helpless sob escape my lips as my sword shivered away in my hand, a glowing shiver, the bright, beaming silver trembling in my hold. My heart felt like it could burst right out of me.

I couldn't move.

"Dead?"

"Yes. As the other four before him."

_Four._

_Four._

_God._

There was a horrid taste at the back of my throat, a taste that was driving me insane.

"W-Who?"

"Two from the _Pearl_, an Englishmen and a Chinese sailor. Al'ad and Victor were from this ship."

_Al'ad._

_Victor._

_God, I knew those men._

_Not well; especially not in the past few days._

_But dead?_

_DEAD?_

_How could they be dead?_

_How could they?_

"How?" My voice was a squeak, a shiver of a whisper as I pressed my tongue against my aching teeth, my fingers sweaty and horribly tight around the burning, gold hilt, "How come they are-"

"They lost their wits," Circe's voice was calm, even leaning on boredom in her odd, strange tone, "I don't understand it either child, but one moment, they were all standing there, with all of you, staring ahead like that. The next thing I knew, they are jumping over the deck. They are gone, child. You can't save them now."

Everything smelt like death.

"What…" my voice trailed as I blinked slowly, forcing the tears of panic, of fear to stop itself in track, my sword shivering in a gentle blur of bright gold and silver, "What…why didn't you do anything? Didn't you try to wake us? To wake me? What-"

"It was not my place to safe them."

"What? Are you-"

"I had to wait for you to wake up. Those were my or-"

"You had to wait-those men are dead! All four of-"

"I cannot interfere."

"What-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" I screamed as I glared at her distant figure, my throat gone, my anger, my confusion, my desperation surging through me, fiery and strong, vile and uncontrollable, a cry threatening to spill out entirely, "Four men are dead! DEAD, CIRCE! You say that they jumped, out of no explainable reason-"

"I did not say that-"

"Everyone," I thought I could cry, so scared I was, so bloody tired and afraid and just plain wired, "Everyone is acting like they're dead, Circe! Look around! No one's talking! They can't even…they can't even see me!"

The choke had come, and the sob had seeped into the last sentence, my throat tight, my entire body shaking with unexplained feelings; I was so scared, so scared for my sanity, so scared for everyone.

Were they dead?

Were they going to die too?

_God…._

_Please._

_Please._

_Do some-_

"Calm down, child."

"I can't, Circe. I can't! These people…my friends-"

"Friends?"

"Something's wrong! Something's wrong with them, and not with you and me! Something's wrong with them, and already four are dead-please, for the love of whatever that is real, please, Circe! Tell me what's happening!"

Before me, the demi-goddess did not reply; she just sat there, in all the tell-tale mist, invisible in the swifting white, chains moaning into the solemn pale night. Her hands were clasped together on her lap, tight and wound, dark against the soft pale of her draping, sinking blue silk. Her dark hair seemed to glow a deep, unearthly black through all the white, whispery haze.

She was silent.

But for just a moment.

Inside me, deep inside me, my emotions, feelings, were raging a battle against one another, my blood surging with adrenaline and complete despair, every part of me wanting to shriek out in complete fear; I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if I was still dreaming, if I was still caught in all that fog…

But no.

No.

The sword in my hand told me no.

No.

The sword.

I wasn't dreaming.

Not anymore.

I was awake, and this was all real.

All of this was real.

This was real.

_God._

"The spell is strong," Circe's voice was clear again, though gentler now, fading away in the soft mist, in the leeching, bitter mist, "They will die soon, unless you safe them."

"How?" my voice sounded so small, so small in all the white, so small in this world where I wasn't even sure truly existed, so small in this terrifying hellhole, "How are they in danger, Circe? How…what is happening?"

"I do not know, but there is no time-"

"Circe-

"Do you want to safe them?"

"What?"

The sword trembled in my hand, glowing bright and beautiful.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Do you want to safe your friends?"

"Well…yes," I nodded, nodded blindly into the fog, into the tear-jerking, stomach-crunching mist, "Of course I do! I do…but I don't even know-"

"It does not matter what you know. It only matters what you can do, and what you must."

For a second, I stopped, I stopped breathing and I stopped thinking; in my hands, my sword was beautiful, glowing bright amidst the gloomy mist, its silver end sharp and gleaming, like a diamond caught in the sun's light. The ruby that rested beneath my thumb, the ruby that burned with such heat, looked like an eye, a red eye staring right at me, staring straight, staring strong. Its warmth was just so darn delicious.

And strong.

The sword felt strong.

So strong.

As did I.

"What must I do?"

**TA-DA!**

**That's it for not!**

**Terribly long chapter, but it was sort of fun to write.**

**Sort of.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading this fic, guys, and please leave any comments on my review page. They are really appreciated and loved! THANKS!**

**XOXO**


	41. The Gatekeeper

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**I hope you enjoy this one, guys! Thanks for the reviews too!**

**Also, I'm thinking of doing to a sequel to this fic. What do you guys think? Should I write a sequel after this or somehow find a way to end this one, whilst making it very long? Tell me your opinions! XD**

**Chapter 39: The Gatekeeper**

_I come into a region where is nothing that can give light._

_-Dante's Inferno, Canto IV: First Circle_

I have a knack, you know.

A knack of doing stupid things.

One fall, when I was just a kid, I saw it in myself to climb the tallest tree in Fitcher Park and search for a hiding place within its trunk, just like the Famous Five. Of course, that adventure ended with a loud, uncontrollable bawling, a stinging earful from my father and irritable, broken bone.

Not that I ever learned my lesson, of course.

A few years and inches later had me secretly digging up the earth near the Reserve with a convoy of my friends, all in a bid to "find the long lost remains of a T-Rex and through scientific means, bring it back to life." It was an excavation of a lifetime; there were shovels, small, red wheelbarrows, khaki shorts, safari hats and a muddy, little Reid, shouting out orders to us, dirt smeared all over his pale small face.

Of course, in the end, there was no T-Rex; just an extremely angry ranger, fuming parents, a disgruntled mayor and a hefty bill slapped against my father's red-shaded face, simply because it had been I who "began this whole mess in the first place."

Bloody unfair, if you asked me.

Naturally, that wasn't the last of my streak; the rest of my pimply years were filled with detention slips, screaming neighbours, bruised knuckles, principal's office, vandalism stints, yelling father, broken stereos, broken bones, rabid dogs, minor heart attacks, street blackouts, stolen police cruisers….

And the white, never-ending depths of the still, foul mist too, apparently.

_Yup._

_I definitely had a knack._

Beneath me, beneath my shaky, shivering form, the small boat rocked above the still waters like a cradle, the waves slapping against the wooden sides in soft, quiet knocks. Grey water peaked over the edges as the hollow bottom thrummed with the soft murmur of the gentle, bleak sea, the wooden boards creaking and moaning in a forgotten whisper. The oars were cold as ice in my numb fingers; _slosh, slosh, _filled the silence of the white world as the heavy oaks dipped in and out of the dead sea, pushing against the invisible water, heaving against my tired muscles. Flecks of cold water pricked against my skin, like little sharp needles.

All was cold.

All was white.

All was silent.

_Curse you, Circe._

I didn't want to do this.

I didn't want to take a boat, and row myself through the white mist, away from the ships, away from everyone.

I didn't want to be all alone out here, in this horrid quiet, in this watching, miserable mist.

I didn't want to do this.

But I was.

_I must._

All around me, the world was quiet, deathly and pallid quiet; there was only the quiet waves, and the sloshing of the oars as I glided myself forward. There was no other sound, not one; it was as if the only thing that existed anymore was the boat, the water and I.

And the mist.

The mist, of course.

Before me, behind me, all around me, the mist watched silently, its creeping white following my slow passage into its bowels, its pallid jaws snapping close over me. It was as if I had disappeared away into a dream, a long forgotten dream, lost forever in spiralling, twisting white; there was no colour in the world, no colour safe the silent pale, no colour safe the wall of thick fog pulling me into its grasp. I couldn't even see the water below; snatches of dead black caught my eye as I rowed ahead, slowly, into the never-ending white, the pale swallowing me whole, engulfing me forever. My toes felt like sticks of ice.

White.

All I could see was white.

A terrifying, mind-boggling white.

And I was heading right into it.

_A giant, irresistible knack._

My breath was a shaky haze.

There was a fear in my heart, a pulling, horrid fear, like a monster screaming within me, gnawing at my skin, rushing about my blood; every part of me was awake, full awake and alive, as I stared ahead at the white wall, at the world that consumed me, that erased me. My heart jumped up and down in total terror, my tongue dry with a silent scream; I wanted to cry, to turn around in my boat and row away, row out of this foul-smelling, tight white before it engulfed me away forever. I wanted to sob my heart out, to give in to the fear, the mortal fear that stabbed through my body in a wincing, bloody pain.

I was afraid.

So very afraid.

And why shouldn't I be?

Back there, back on the boats, at least a mile off in this mist, everyone was gone. They were there, their bodies I mean, but they….

Something was wrong with them.

Something terrible.

Something that was driving me insane.

A sob wracked through my throat.

My heart squeezed a still, cold beat.

_Slosh, slosh._

_Only you can do this, little one, _the memory of Circe's word whispered in my mind as I stared ahead, my fingers tight and stiff around the rounded nubs of the oars, the mist pulling me farther into its white, leeching arms, _You're awake. The others aren't. Only you can go into the mist and find out what is happening._

Of course, the bitch forgot to mention that I was actually going _into _the mist.

My tongue was dry as hell.

My heart felt completely dead.

_Why was I here?_

_Why me?_

_Why did I have to be the one who was here, rowing into this foul thing, into this terrifying white that waited to ensnare me into its arms?_

_Why did I have to be the only one awake?_

_I never wanted this. _

_I never wanted any of this._

_I never wanted this crazy adventure, this suicidal, mind-wracking adventure._

_I never wanted to be stuck 300 years in the past with my brother. _

_I never wanted to be in the company of idiotic, stupid pirates._

_I never wanted to be caught up in a search for some immortal fountain._

_I never wanted to be the one who found this Balder's sword._

_I never wanted to fall in love._

Yet here I was.

Alone.

Forever alone.

"Pull it together, Joey," I whispered to myself as the little boat trudged forward, bobbing about the sleepy waters like a buoy, aimless and vulnerable, "Quit it." My breath, my whispery, mad-tainted breath came out in a shady fog, like the mist itself; my hands, my fingers, my toes, my tongue, even the hairs at the back of my neck, seemed numb and frozen, my sense alive and rushing with cold blood. Shivers rippled through my still body like waves slashing against the sides of the miserable dinghy.

_Slosh, slosh._

The smell of the dead had become so commonplace now that bile had stopped creeping up my throat.

My stomach was a sick, twisted knot of dead muscles.

I was so alone.

_Why, God?_

_Seriously._

_Why?_

The world was completely white, colours gone, life gone but there, sitting at the hollow end of the small boat, safe away in the dark brown shadows was my sword, the glow still bright and strange and warm. It laid right in front of my boots, the razor-sharp edge a gleaming star of silver, poking at the tip of the hard black leather, sluicing against the metal. The knee-high tailor of my black boots made it hard to sit comfortably on the shallow, rocking boat; yet my feet remained firm, hard upon the wood, ready to reach out and stamp down on the glowing blade if it so much as skidded away from me.

Even an inch.

It was strength, after all, my only hope in this crushing white, my only saviour; its glow as brilliant as before, a soft, warm glow the colour of beaming gold and dancing silver. Reflections of light, transcendent, beautiful light leaped about the blade as it bobbed along with the boat on the silent waves, its edges firm and sharp, its gold hilt like the blaze of the sun right before my eyes. In the shadows of the boat, in the dark, gloomy corner, the sword was a sliver of light, beaming at me, watching me from its dark recess, from its surroundings of pale, shivering white. The red ruby was like a fiery, burning eye.

I could barely feel its heat.

_Don't worry, Joey._

_Don't worry._

_You're safe._

_If anything were to happen, you can just reach forward._

_Anything at all._

_Just reach forward and you'll be safe._

_Completely safe._

My arms felt like hard, immobile lead.

My heart felt completely dead.

_Slosh, slosh._

Through the white I rowed, through the whispering, discernible, watching white, not knowing where I was going, what I was looking for; I just had to do it, didn't I? I had to do something. I couldn't just sit back there and watch as my friends became nothing more then statues, pieces of art in a misty dead courtyard. I just couldn't do anything as those people, those pirates, Scarlett, my brother, Will.

This was me.

This was me, doing something.

Something I wasn't even sure of.

Something completely suicidal.

_"It does not matter what you know. It only matters what you can do, and what you mu-"_

I heard something.

In the mist, in the white wall of complete blankness before me, in the utter silence and death that encircled my little buoy, a sound echoed out of the gloom, soft but prominent, faded but there. My ears pricked upward in a startled pain.

_No._

_God._

_No._

It was a sound.

A soft sound.

A heart-stopping sound.

A mind-freezing.

A nerve-killing sound.

It was a sound.

A sound of flapping.

Through the white, through the mist, something flapped by, a loud flapping, like that of a gigantic bird swopping through the midnight white, not too far away. I couldn't tell where it was coming from, from which direction, from which length; it just flapped by, the beat of wings like slaps of leather in the white, a shift in the silence like a whip in the wind. My ears pounded with rushing blood.

Flapping.

_Flapping._

Something was flapping in the mist.

Something.

_Something alive._

My arms stopped moving, the oars freezing in mid-water, the wood heavy and hard in my ice-cold hands. Beneath, beneath everything, my heart jolted to a standstill, my blood freezing in its path like a frozen river, coursing through a wintery brook. No thought, not a single thought fluttered through my mind as the flapping echoed through the shuddering mist, fleeting across my world, gone before I could even blink. Every part of me seemed to have become still.

Absolutely still.

My tongue tasted like dead fish.

Hell.

_Hell._

_Please tell me this was a bad dream._

_A really bad dream. _

_Because if it is, than all of this is tota-_

A shadow, a fleetingmirage of a shadow, dashed across the white above, high above, up in the misty, colourless, non-existent sky. It was nothing more then a blur, a shade of black streaking out of the pale, shifting white and disappearing back into the white's folds as if it had never been there. It was so quick that I could barely see it, so quick that for a moment, I thought I was beginning to loose it.

Loose it completely.

_Correction._

_This is a nightmare._

_A vivid, completely clear night-_

Another shadow, this time on the left, nearer towards the water, smooth and gliding, a large figure flying through the mist, unseen like a predator, quick as a dash. It moved as smoothly as an eagle, but it was large, huge; bigger then me, bigger then the boat-

And then the flapping again, swats of beating wing, up and below, right and left, front and behind-

Two shadows, gliding up above, graceful black against the white, falling in and out of the pale, shape indiscernible, just a blur of something I just couldn't quite place. It moved like the swift of the waves, elegant and quick, hidden in the white-

There was a flapping right over me now, a loud slapping of rushing wings like that of a gigantic animal, a monstrous bird; a breath of wind slapped against the top of my head as the flapping dashed past overhead, rifling the top of my hair, tugging at my curls. My skin felt smooth, like untouched ice-

Another shadow, and then another, dashing behind in the shifting mist, closer and farther away, smooth and perfect like the shadow of the setting sun; but it wasn't the sun. It wasn't some natural-

No.

No way.

No.

It wasn't natural.

_Not natural._

There was something out there, something out there in the mist and as I sat there, staring at the leaping shadows, at the gigantic shades gliding behind the trickling mist, my hands wounded around the oars, I couldn't help but remember the fear of earlier. I couldn't help but remember standing on the ships, staring at the white, completely terrified out of my mind over a predator I wasn't even sure existed. I couldn't help but remember standing there and doing nothing, staring helplessly, fearfully, at the white wall that came for me, pulling me-

There was something.

There was something in the mist.

_Something alive._

A dark shadow, large as the others, flapped nearer towards me, near the bow of the boat, near the water, the flap of its wings like claps of thunder in my ears, its breathing torn to shreds like a beast-

I couldn't do it anymore.

I couldn't.

With a loud gasp of cold, foul air, I tore my numb fingers away from the hard, wooden oars and threw myself down, buckling my knees and slamming my body against the cold, thrumming wood. My body hit down with a loud _bang,_ the hollow vibrating in reply, the concave of wood closing around me like dark, protective arms; my curls crashed against the floor of the boat as my head hit first, my ear pressed against the wood and nails. My high boots cut through the thin fabric of my pants.

Splinters scratched against my bare shoulders.

I tasted blood.

Something was flapping near me, something big with wide, muscular wings slapping against hard, leathery flesh.

Something was breathing.

_God…_

Without another word, another thought, I turned my head slightly and reached upward, scratching my skin against the nails, waking my numbing fingers with a frantic grope; the blade was there, warm and alive, its sharp tip warm like a toasty campfire, burning with light. I could barely see, barely see it at all; but I just grabbed it, my cold fingers closing over the razor edge, the heat rushing its way through me.

I didn't even care when the metal cut through my skin, leaving a trickle of blood down my palm.

I didn't even care about the pain.

I just grabbed it, and in a single movement, brought the sword towards me, enveloping it in a hug, arms tight as hell. Blood laced through my fingers, like patchwork, but I didn't care; I grabbed my burning warm blade and drew it near, pulling it towards my body, hugging it with my life. My heart shuddered against the metal as the warmth exploded through me, coursing its way through me again, blooming like a flower, beautiful and wondrous. Light wavered against my body like a passing flame.

_Flap._

_Flap, flap._

I could barely breathe.

For a moment, I just lay there, huddled at the base of the boat, hugging the sword with my life, not caring if it cut through my cloths, through my skin, my knees high, my body pressing in on itself. Heat swam its way through me but I didn't let go. I wouldn't.

The blade.

The blade.

Only the blade can safe me.

_Only the blade._

_Flap, flap._

_Flap._

I closed my eyes.

**888888**

"_You won't always have a catch, Joey," my father's voice was like a rumble as he stared over at me, the blue-green, jewel-like reflections of the river sparkling across his face and lighting up his weary, brown eyes. The tip of his blue fishing hat kissed against his broad, wrinkled forehead; beside him, sitting at the end of the canoe with his fishing rod between his legs, Johnny was limed against the afternoon sunlight, his back bent forward in concentration, his face angled against the blue. The silver of his rod was like a blade in the bright of the day._

_The world smelt of fresh, dew pine._

_Rushing water roared through my ears._

_The river looked like a giant expanse of gems._

"_That's what you say," I let my grumble as I stared bleakly at the shimmering blue field, at the crystalline water that gushed and rushed smoothly around our canoe, "But you _always _have a good catch." Beside me, at the other end of the canoe, my other twin, Jared, was asleep at his post, his head leaning against his rod, his hands wrapped around it in a slight hug. A soft snore heaved in and out of his body. _

_The boat rocked beneath our feet._

_The wind was cool as it could get._

_My father's laugh was like the jingle of bells._

"_You're only 12, Joey," he smiled, his grin bright, his old eyes glinting like precious amber, "I'm an adult. I have had plenty of time to practice."_

"_Johnny's 12 too, and he usually gets a good fish. Often enough."_

"_That's because I'm patient and you're not," my brother concluded at the other end of the boat, his eyes still trained on the water, his back towards me; I could only glare at him in reply. He was right, of course. Johnny was always right. I _was _impatient._

_Not that I could help it._

_Jared's snoring notched up an octave._

_A bird called in that nearby tree._

"_I don't like fishing, anyway," I scowled back into the water as I tightened my grip around the rod, little fingers wrapped around the metal, the slim line shivering slightly beneath my movement. It disappeared over the lip of the boat; all around us, the river twinkled and winked like brilliant crystals, as beautiful as the day, a sea of dancing gleams. Small white caps of little waves bobbed us up and down along with the current, rocking us like a cradle, smooth and gentle. The rush of the water filled the world._

_Ducks quaked over at the bank, at the passing, whispering reeds. _

_Birds flew over the green treetops._

_Everything smelled fresh._

"_You don't?"_

"_No," I looked up from the water and towards my dad, at the man sitting beside me, eyebrow quirked in curiosity, "I don't."_

"_Why not? I thought you loved fishing."_

"_I did…but that was before I found out I'm terrible at it."_

_My father laughed, his voice rich and warm as timber, and in a single swift, he leaned forward on the rocky surface and kissed me on the forehead, his short beard scratchy against my skin, his lips warm like the sun. He smelled like wood, warm, burning wood, toasting in a delicious fire._

_Jared snored even more._

_Johnny muttered something._

_The world was at peace._

"_My little girl," he whispered as he pulled away, looking down at me with those amber eyes, his lips pulled back into a warm, lovely smile, "Always remember, alright? Always remember that no matter how terrible things might seem to be, never you give up. Never you let it go."_

"_But what if I'm really terrible? What if I really can't do it?"_

"_Then you will give them something to remember."_

I woke up to the brown curve of the boat, the etched lines in the oiled wood shifting before my vision, bobbing up and down to the invisible waves. It was hard and cold, and at this distance, every detail was obvious, every line a work of art. Shivering light, pale reflections danced before me like spiralling pirouettes, leaping and playing and fleeting like passing memories, winters passed. Trails of grey water slide against brown.

My head ached.

Really ached.

_Did I actually fall asleep?_

With a groan, I turned away from the spiralling wood, blinking my eyes wearily as my head pulled, my curls unfolding against the bobbing wood, my aching head rocking up and down with the cold timber. My arms were still tight around the sword, its warm, bright heat, it s beautiful glow like a blanket, strong and comforting; up above, beyond the arms of the boat and rocking of the world around me was the mist, a sheet of white, of shifting, smoking white drifting in my vision like a thousands of clouds draped over the sky. There was no colour, no life at all. Everything was completely quiet.

_Crap._

_I'm still here._

_Still in this shit hole._

Slowly, I pulled myself up, arms tight around the sword, head heavy like lead; before me, before my blinking, sleepy eyes, the world was the same. It was the same scene, same picture; the mist, the quiet, grey sea, the never-ending silence, the awful, foul air. It was the same stupid, fucked up thing, the same freaking shit that I had been stuck in the moment I closed my eyes.

The mist.

The dreadful mist

Of course, there seemed to be no more shadows.

No horrid flapping.

No more ragged breathing.

_Thank God._

It was silent, and unbearable, and as I sat there, in the hollow of the boat, hugging the warm, brilliant sword close against my chest, I stared out, at the white world, at the mist that surrounded me all; somewhere in front of me, in the direction I had come from, the ships were waiting, my friends probably still as dead as I had left them. I couldn't see any markers in the white, any indication or sign that could identify my direction, my location; I was just drifting in the water, in the invisible water that slapped against the sides of the wooden dinghy like knocks against wood. The soft slosh of waves echoed through the stabbing silence.

I was alone.

Again.

And for all I know, completely lost.

I had slept for a while, after all, for how long I didn't long know, but long enough to set me a drifting, right?

For all I know, I could have drifted out for miles and miles, farther and farther away from the ship, completely lost to them forever.

_What if I was lost?_

_What if I never see them again?_

_What if-_

My breath felt ragged, my lungs tight as I breathed in the white air, the pommel of the sword like a brilliant cascade of gold against my chin; in all the bleak, in all the dead, the sword was the only colour, the only hope. Its warmth seeped into my bones like honey, holding me close, delicious and comforting. Its light played all over my body in a gentle glimmer; I didn't want to let it go. I couldn't.

After all, without it, wouldn't those creatures come back?

That horrid flapping?

Without this sword, without its heat, wouldn't those _things_ return?

_But why?_

_What's so special about this sword?_

I couldn't explain it, couldn't decipher it, but I still held on; there was something about this sword, something that made me strong, something that made me brave. It was the only colour in the world, the only light, and it looked like a star in my hands, a celestial beauty singing up to me, lending me strength. Even in all the bleak and whispering white, it was beautiful, bright.

And strong.

As I was I.

I couldn't explain it; I was scared, and then I wasn't, like I knew everything was going to be alright.

How strange is that?

Here I was, stuck in a mist obviously conjured my some sorcery, clueless to my location, completely and utterly alone…

And yet, I wasn't that afraid.

Not with the sword, anyway.

No.

Not that afraid.

Hell, perhaps if one of those things came for me right now-

_I wasn't alone._

I didn't know what told me that, what gave me such a thought but as I sat there, staring beyond the end of the boat, at the swirling, white mist with unknown depths, my mind arguing with itself, something crept over me, a feeling, a prick at the back of my neck. It was sudden and sharp, like a slap against the back of my head, or a needle attack on my skin; my heart instantly froze as the feeling overcame me like waves against rock, crashing against my body, numbing all other thoughts. My tongue felt paper dry.

My fingers were as numb as ice.

My blood stopped rushing altogether.

I stopped breathing.

Someone watching me.

_Oh God._

_OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOh-_

Someone was watching me, and I could feel it; I could feel eyes on me, watching my every move, trained upon my back. My lungs seemed to give way as my breath stopped entirely, my body freezing in place, fear clawing across my skin. Goosebumps, like a thousand of fingers poking against my skin, blossomed everywhere, paralysing me, stilling me; the terror was back, the undeniable terror of being watched from the white, of being encircled, a predator ready to pounce-

_The sword._

Gripping the blade, cold fingers pressed hard against the bright, warm metal, the heat resounding through my body like warm waves upon a hot, golden shore, I turned around slowly. My body twisted awkwardly as I slowly made my way across the boat, turning from the end of the dinghy and towards the front again, towards the proper direction; the oars poked annoyingly but I kept my slow circuit, my breath shivering against a strand of my hair, my eyes downward, fearful and terrified. My throat felt raw and red as my eyes turned forward, my body turning once more toward the front. Cloth scratched against wood as the mist remained the same all around, the sword a beacon of warmth and strength in my arms, a hope, a courage. The ruby red on the hilt was like a leaping, fiery eye.

_Ok._

_Alright._

_Calm down, Joey._

_You're just imagining it again._

_There's no one watching you._

_There's no one._

_You're all alone, and the paranoia is hitting you._

_There's no one._

_When you turn around, you'll see that there is no one, and its just this horrid mist-_

I wasn't alone.

Before me, in the middle of the white mist, about 30 meters away from the front lip of the boat was a post, a tall, wooden post reaching out of the water like a brown, strong finger. It was tall and broad, emerging out of the mist-covered, grey waters like a shark's fin, smooth and perfect, idyllic; it looked like a mirage in all the white, a distant, foggy mirage, a dream, forgotten and lost. It didn't even look real; it was just sitting there, in the middle of all this nothing, in the middle of all this white, a pinnacle of smooth, round wood.

A wooden post in the middle of the sea.

It seemed so strange, so weird; it was a colour, a colour in all the white, a fog, a dream, faded away in the fold of the mist. It seemed to have emerged out of nothing, a clean slate, a stake, piercing through the thin veil of white over the bleak waters. There was no distinctive shape, no particular feature; it was just a plain wooden post, materializing out of the invisible water, out of the seemingly, endless white.

Just a plain wooden post.

I blinked my eyes once, then twice but it was still there, an empty, wooden pole, a plain stick-

No.

No.

It wasn't empty.

It wasn't plain.

As the waves moved me forward, bobbing the boat along its gentle current, rocking and creaking the wood, the post became nearer and nearer, clearer and clearer in the windshield of fog; it wasn't empty, as I first thought, for there was some colour to it, some colour draped over the wood. It was too foggy to see, to far away, but there seemed to be a hint of white, a whipping white upon the wood.

Maybe it was the mist.

Maybe it was the leeching hands of this horrid white-

But no.

This white was more solid.

More real.

There was also a bit of black to it, at the top and near the middle.

What was it?

Paint?

Paint on the wood?

But no. No, it wasn't paint. The colours, the black and white, seemed to be sticking out of the wood, not part of it.

It couldn't be paint.

Streamers?

Banners?

Something flowy, for the white did look flowy.

The black not so much-

Was there silver too?

There seemed to be something silver at the top, something metal-like near the round top of the wooden post. I couldn't see clearly, could barely see at all-

Streamers?

White, black and silver streamers?

Perhaps.

It sort of made sense.

And then, it didn't.

Why, after all, would there be a wooden post in the middle of the ocean, with black, white and silver streamers wrapped around it?

A port, maybe?

But no.

We were too far out for a port.

Or were we?

Has this blasted mist led me, and the ships near towards shore, towards some port in hope that we would run aground or crash to our deaths?

Was this the sorcery?

Was this the magic Circe had said, the magic that froze my companions in waking slumber and had 4 men jump to their deaths?

Was this the trickery that had killed the fire in Will's eyes, the spell that casted everyone in living, flesh statues?

Was this the obstacle?

_God. _

_I have to get back._

_I have to get back now._

_If this was really the obstacle…_

_If the sorcery was to run us aground into a port, then I had to get back._

_I had to get back now!_

_I had to get back to the ships and somehow, by myself, try to change their direction, to steer them away. _

_I had to safe them._

_I had to._

_But how?_

_How the hell am I suppose to navigate three ships by myself, without crashing into the other?_

_How on earth was I even suppose to find the ships in all this fog?_

_How, in all that is rational, am I suppose to-_

It was a man.

Not streamers.

Not banners.

A man.

An actual man.

For a moment, I had to blink my eyes rapidly, to clear my head of any illusion, of any magic; but it was there.

It was a man.

An actual man.

It had just popped up in the mist as I had been thinking, as my mind had wandered into the frantic quarrel, my eyes trained upon the strange post; it was as if my eyes had been wiped clean, the details coming into focus like the auto lens of a camera. Every feature, every line just became clear, springing up in the mist like a jack-o, flowing into shape before my blinking eyes. It was as if a veil had been lifted off my vision, a veil of illusion, a veil of fog.

Everything just became lucid.

Transparent.

Obvious.

_Holy Sith._

Before me, stretched out along the wooden post, was a man, a tall man obvious now in the creeping, leeching mist. He was hanging upon the post, his body paralleled to it, his booted feet hanging above the misty waters, still and dead.

It was as if he was standing in mid-air.

Like a ghost.

My bloody fingers dug deeper against the warm, glowing blade.

I could barely see him still, barely see his features in all the white, but there was no denying it; it was man. He had a head of long, dark hair, thick and luscious, spilling down over his face and on his broad, muscular shoulders. It was unruly and unkempt, and very dark; in all the white, in all the swirling, twisting, endless white, his hair looked like a black void, hard and omnipotent in the colourless world, a shape of no light.

Black.

Black "streamers".

_Great._

Beyond his hair, I could see very little, but as the boat bobbed forward, pulling ahead in the current, soft and gentle, _slap, slap, _he became clearer and clearer with each passing second; he had a long, slender body, like that of a dancer, a slim torso and a small waist, his long legs muscular and hard beneath the dark of his pants. His chest was broad though, along with his wide shoulders; I still couldn't see clearly enough but it was only obvious that he wore a black vest, splayed out and hard, relentless and striking in the creeping, whispering white. Silver buttons, winking in the white, stars in the gloom, framed the vest in neat rows, constellations against a black, lucid sky. His dark-clad legs and booted black feet made him look like an abyss in a world of white, a linear, muscular black hole.

How did I not see this before?

_How?_

As I moved closer, the boat nodding along in a sleepy manner, the man became clearer, like someone had wiped the fog off a window pane. Every detail began to jump out of the whiteness; up above, along side his dark, messy curls and above his broad shoulders, his arms were covered in white puffy sleeves, like the ones the pirates wore but of a stranger cut, an older design. They were pulled upward towards his head, old white kissing against ragged black, white fingers knotted together at the top of his head; he was pale, as pale as the white of his sleeve, pale as the white that surrounded us both.

Pale as the mist.

Pale.

White.

White "streamers".

_Great._

I couldn't see his face, couldn't see a single feature as I bobbed nearer and nearer towards him; he was looking down, all the way down, to his floating feet, and the mist that covered the water beneath. His dark hair covered most of his face like a curtain, hiding away his features; I couldn't tell if he was alive. I couldn't tell at all. It seemed like he was dead, hanging on the post by some magical means, head bowed down, body unmoving. His entire weight was limp against the wood, giving in to gravity. His hair hung dead along his wide shoulders.

He looked like the Christian's Jesus, hanging from a wooden structure, dead and gone.

_Was that blasphemy?_

_Comparing a stranger to Jesus?_

_Then again, I don't really believe in Jesus-_

Silver.

The silver above his head.

As I got closer, I realised, with a quick gasp, that the silver that I had thought to be little streamers were actually chains, cold, hard iron chains wounded around the man's hands and to the wooden post. They winked dully in the white, like faded constellations; I could barely see but it was only obvious that the man was tied to the post, his hands bound against the wood and above his head with thick iron chains.

That explained his mysterious levitation, of course.

_Why didn't I think of that earlier?_

_Still, it didn't explain anything:_

_Why the hell was man tied to wooden post in the middle of the ocean?_

_Was he part of the sorcery? _

_Who was he?_

_What was he doing-_

All of a sudden, the boat stopped moving, freezing completely in tracks and jolting me slightly with its sudden stop; it seemed impossible but the boat had indeed stopped, frozen in place in the middle of all this rocking waves. Gentle slaps of invisible white caps hit against the boat, knocking it softly, swaying gently. Wood creaked and moaned and sobbed, but the boat was still, completely still, as if I had anchored or something.

But I hadn't.

I hadn't anchored.

I had no anchor.

How on earth is the current not-

It was right before me now, 3 meters away, the man tied to the wooden post. He was so clear now, so real; the black of his clothes seemed so stark in the white, like flash in a midnight sky, a slap to the face. His dark hair toppled over his shoulders like a churning, black waterfall, harsh and wild, untameable. His face was still hidden-

The smell.

The smell was back.

The smell of rotting flesh, of horrid death.

The smell of the dead.

It was back.

I had been so obsessed with the person, with this strange thing, eerie thing, studying its details that I had totally forgotten about the smell; it had become so common place now, so casual but here, here it was stronger, foul and terrible, gut-wrenching, bile-creeping. The disgusting stench of the dead, the sour crisp of rotting flesh and wet bones; bile, fiery and foul, threatened up my throat as I gazed up at this strange man tied to the post, the sting awful, my stomach twisting. Everything smelt so completely dead.

I wanted to hurl now.

I wanted to puke so very badly.

_Who are you?_

My palms were bleeding against the edge of the swords again.

My stomach was a twist of knots.

My heart was dead.

"Hello?" I muttered briskly, controlling my urge to puke, swallowing back the mouthful of bile, fingers pressed against the warm blade. My stomach was groaning and moaning, and helplessly, I pulled a hand up to cup over my shivering lips-

He moved.

With a snap of dark, messy hair, the strange man before me jerked his face up, his black hair whipping in the white, his face biting into existence; he was handsome, deliciously handsome with a long, angular face and a sharp nose that fitted a symmetry Picasso would be proud of. His jaw line was firm and solid, and sharply defined like a work of art, like a sculpture moulded by the gods. It wasn't clean shaven though; he had a rugged look, short, black bristles upon his angled jaw and a wry dark moustache, much like Will's, upon his upper lip. His cheekbones were prominently high, matching perfectly with his arched, smooth eyebrows and his-

Eyes.

His eyes.

Something was wrong with his eyes.

For a moment, the entire world stood in a standstill as I gazed into his eyes, my heart stopping, my breath ceasing. Every part of me numbed over and I felt no pain, no pain at all as the blade's warm edge dug deep into my palms, the warm blood oozing across my skin like a tributary of rivers, red like fire. My tongue felt absolutely dead.

Absolutely dead.

_God._

_Oh God._

_Tell me this is a nightmare._

_Tell me I'm going to wake up any minute now, in my old room, in my bed, staring at the wooden ceiling, hearing my father yell for me to wake up._

_Please. _

_Please._

_Tell me this is a dream._

_Tell me this is a nightmare._

_Tell me his eyes have pupils._

They were white, utterly and completely white; no pupils, no colour, nothing, white and solid, pale as the mist. It was as if someone had painted over his pupils, painted over any colour in his eyes; they were just white orbs stuck in his sockets, completely white orbs, completely alive. It was white as the mist, white as anything, white as hell-

Just white.

Plain white.

White eyes.

White eyes that stared right at me.

_God._

_Oh God._

_Please tell me I'm dreaming._

But I wasn't.

I was there, sitting in that boat, staring up at this man, this _creature_, tied up against the wooden post, surrounded by all the mist. I was there, staring into his white eyes; I could barely move, barely breathe as the man stared down at me, his white eyes cold and empty.

And dead.

Completely dead.

_How could he see me, if he had no pupils?_

_Was it the trick of the light?_

_Or have I truly, finally, lost my mind?_

_Maybe-_

He twisted his head, cocking it off to the side and peering down at me, like a dog would at a curious sound. Black, heavy locks whipped against the shifting white background as his neck made the quick, sharp snap, strands falling across his pale face, shying across those eyes. His lips, full and quaint, parted slightly as he gazed down at me, eyes unmoving, pricking.

Silent.

It was like staring at the face of death itself, so unnerving was his white gaze, so bloody terrifying were his eyes.

My tongue began to taste of blood.

I dug deeper into the warm blade.

_God._

_Please._

_For once._

_Do me a favour._

I had to get away.

I had to get away, didn't I?

What other choice do I have?

I had to turn back now.

I had to turn back.

I can't stay here, not in this mist, not with this thing-

_Click._

It was the most curious sound I had ever heard, yet somehow it froze all thoughts entirely, numbing all senses, rendering me completely speechless.

_Click, click._

The sword was strong, its heat delicious but I couldn't help it; a terror, an unimaginable, paralysing terror seized me in a net, springing all my senses up into the air, a stab through my frozen heart. Every part of me wanted to jump back down to the hollow again, to cry out and sob and hide away. Every part of me wanted to flee in complete horror.

Blood burned down my skin like rivers, streams of lava.

I couldn't feel anything anymore.

Not a thing.

_Click, click._

It was clicking, this thing before me, clicking a weird sound, like an insect echoing its voice out into the far-reaching, endless mist. It was the slap of the tongue against the palate but louder, calling; it was horrible, its sinister sound like slaps against my face, each syllable creeping under my skin, roiling like a thousand of spiders all over me. Hairs stood up everywhere, pricking high up against my skin; I wanted to puke, to vomit, to cry and break down in a flurry of tears, to scream out in pure dread, in pure horror.

In pure fear.

I was so completely afraid.

So completely afraid.

_Click, click._

"Who are you?" I whispered so quietly, staring up into those empty eyes, unmoving, paralysed, every part of me rooted in place despite the fear that screamed within me. My fingers were tight around the blade, my skin taking in the heat as much as I could, blood trailing across my skin; I felt sick, so very sick but I couldn't do nothing but stare, stare at his handsome face, stare at those horrid, white eyes.

Hear the horrid clicking.

Smell that revolting smell.

Scream and cry inside.

_God._

_Gods._

_Please._

_Just this once._

_Please…._

Before me, strapped against the wood, prominent in all that white, the man stopped his clicking, ceasing all noise safe the soft sloshing of waves against my still boat. His ticking stopped almost as suddenly as I had spoke, fading away into the white; he still stared down at me, his head cocked to the side, his eyes empty and white and dead. Black hair, thick and dark, flickered across his emotionless, paned face.

It was like staring at a painting.

A creepy, completely insane painting.

_I'm going to die now, aren't I?_

_I'm so going to die._

_He's going to come at me, and gut me-_

He spoke.

I felt the blood rush through my eyes, roaring like waves against rocks, my stomach roiling in an uncontrollable whirlwind, my heart stopping dead for eternity; the white was all around me, calling, whispering, reaching at me with cold, leeching hands, but none of it mattered. None mattered when the man, the man before me, the man tied to the wooden post parted his far-away lips and spoke, stilling me completely.

His eyes were white like cold ice.

_He spoke._

"I am Metus," his voice was a normal males' but smooth, trance-like, a strange, far-out sound that twisted my stomach even more and ripped through my heart, his soulless eyes still gazing down at me, his head still twisted to the side, "Metus the Gatekeeper."

It was like a whisper in the dark, a voice so unearthly, so estranged; a dream, a far away dream, a dream of a dream, as if the man before me, the creature, was locked away in some alter reality, a mirage in his imaginations. He sounded like he was trapped away in a daze.

My fingers coiled in subconscious response.

_God._

_His voice._

My right hand, my bloody right hand slid up towards the hilt, towards the golden, bright hilt that shone warm against my chin, the only thing that truly was keeping me sane.

A shiver rippled up my spine.

_Someone shoot me already._

"Gatekeeper?" the word spilled out before I could help it, a shiver in the white, a bare, terrible whisper, my heart barely beating; before me, hands tied up against the pillar, a prisoner against the wooden post, the freaky creature slowly righted his head, his black curls falling back in place, slow and strangely beautiful in all the damp pallor. White-eyes, like gems of bright diamonds, smooth and flawless, cold and dead, kept their gaze on me, his lips parted slightly, the chains silent around his hands. His body barely moved at all; in fact, it was as if he wasn't even breathing, his chest completely still, his legs hanging dead. Soft black hair, thick and dark, kissed and ruffled against his large white sleeves.

_Slosh, slosh._

"Aye," he sounded so far away, so distant, so much in a dream; it was so strange, so haunting, like a forgotten nightmare calling me back into its folds. Every part of me seemed to have frozen silent; my heart was still, my breath was gone, my blood was cold in my veins. My entire body seemed to have been paralysed in complete fear.

Utterly frozen.

Warm blood crawled down the line of my wrists.

The air was dead.

For a moment, neither of us spoke; I gazed up at this creature, this man with white eyes, holding my breath, blinking repeatedly in hope that it was all some vague, horrible nightmare. His eyes, in turn, never left me, watching from his long face, through the strands of wary black. The world was white and silent.

Utterly silent.

The blade was warm against my skin.

Finally, taking in a deep breath of the putrid air, ignoring the roiling of my stomach and gazing up into those glass eyes with gnawing terror, I breathed out my words, my voice shaky and trembling with fear.

"Is it you?"

He was quiet for a moment, his lips parted, his eyes like those of the dead, focused but unclear. His neck cricked to the side a little as the white of his giant sleeves ruffled gently in the pale.

"Me?"

"Yes," I sucked in the air, my eyes all the ready to tear, the sword warm and alive in my bloody grasp, "Is it you that is doing all this? This…this mist and a-all?"

Every hair on my back was razor sharp.

_Slosh, slosh._

"Aye," the man spoke again, his voice as strange and haunting as it was before, like a man in a daze, in a far-away dream, his chest still in all the fading pale, "It is I. I whom you seek."

"Metus the Gatekeeper?"

"Aye."

There was no particular accent to his voice but the more he talked, the more I felt that this man-Metus the Gatekeeper-was older then he seemed. There seemed to be an age in his voice, a weary, tired age and though he looked young, a few older then me perhaps, his thick hair jet without white, his handsome, pale face smooth without wrinkles. He looked no older then Lestrade, or Will; but there was age in his tone, in his far-away, dreamy tone, a silent, weariness like that of an old man speaking in a daze.

His voice was young though, young as mine.

He just sounded….old.

Blood crawled against my skin like an army of fire ants, hot and bothering.

My heart barely moved.

"What have you done to my friends?" I heard a sob in my voice-God, I must have sounded so weak! But who could blame me? I had every right to be terrified.

In fact, I should be shitting my pants by now.

But I wasn't; instead, I was still there, staring up at this Metus, at this creature tied to the post in the middle of misty ocean, at his pale white eyes that looked so much like the frail mist. The blade was tearing into my skin, into my bloody palms, but there was no pain, no pain at all; had I lost that too?

Had I lost my feelings?

My nerves?

Or was this only because I _truly_ was dreaming, and that in dreams I could not feel pain?

_Was this really a dream?_

_A nightmare-_

"Your friends?"

His voice was like riddle, like something of the ancient past.

_Slosh, slosh._

"The ones on the ships," I bit my lips, staring up into those endless white, trapped, ensouled by all the white and silence in the world, "My friends. The pirates…. what h-have you done to them?"

"Nothing they did not deserve."

The air was still twisting my stomach in knots.

My tongue was dry as paper.

"They did nothing."

"They wandered," Metus answered easily enough, his head rising slightly, his curls dark and brilliant in the fancy, whispering white, "And as others that wandered, they are punished."

_Punished._

I closed my eyes, breathing in the foul air, trying to think; punished. What did that mean? Circe told us to come here, didn't she? She told us this was the way to the Fountain of the Youth, and that there were two obstacles-

Not punishments. Obstacles. We would encounter obstacles. We didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all.

Unless, of course, the punishment is the obstacle.

Did that make sense?

It sort of did, didn't it?

I mean, if this…Metus…doesn't know or think he's an obstacle, and that we unwittingly _wandered_….

_Will._

_What about Will?_

_Jared?_

_Scarlett?_

_Sparrow?_

_Gibbs?_

_What wrong did they do to must be punished?_

_What wrong have they done?_

_Slosh, slosh._

"What did you to do them?" I blinked my eyes into focus again pulling away from the chaos of my thoughts and gazing upwards into those eyes again; above me, upon the wooden post, Metus the Gatekeeper was still staring down at me, his dark curls ruffling against the sides of his white sleeves, his body an epitome in the world of silent white. Everything about him was still.

Absolutely still.

Below him, below us, the water was lapping silently against the wood, bleak and grey, hidden beneath the folds of whispering white.

The world stank of death.

My heart was still.

_Maybe I could just turn around now and-_

"I made them weak."

"Weak?"

"Aye," he tilted his head again, white eyes watching like pyres of cold flame, lifeless, colourless, completely and utterly dead, spires of black trembling across his rough, dark jaw, "I am breaking them."

_Breaking them?_

For a moment, I fell into silence as the cold gripped me completely, my blood frozen, my mind numb; breaking them? What did that mean?

His voice echoed in the midnight white, soft and trailing, a whisper in the pallor, a dream in a dream.

My skin crawled with rivers, streams of fire.

The blade hummed softly like a heart.

_Slosh, slosh._

"What do you mean?"

My voice was the barest of whispers, shaky with utter fear.

His was not.

"It is their punishment," his eyes were white as glass, his chin rising higher, his lips cracked and dark in the whipping white, "Wanderers must be broken."

"B-But….But we didn't know! We didn't know any-"

"What you know and what you have already done are two different things. Your friends have wandered, human, and now their souls must be broken and their bodies torn."

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know how to breathe.

All I could do was stare up at this man, at his creature with white eyes, at this Metus.

All I could do was stare.

And scream away inside.

_Slosh, slosh._

"They're my friends!" there was strength in my voice, a soft strength that pushed against the sob, against the whisper in the silence, my hands bloody tight around the warm sword, my eyes gazing upward into those white, dead ones, "They…. They've done nothing wrong!"

"Nine are already with me."

I couldn't breathe anymore.

Couldn't think.

Nine.

_Nine._

_What the hell did that mean?_

_Did that mean nine are dead?_

_Nine pirates?_

_Nine-did those four men, the four men who jumped overboard and supposedly die belong to these nine?_

_Had five others done the same?_

_Nine. _

_Nine._

_Was Will one of them?_

"What are you?"

For a second, the creature just looked at me, his eyes emotionless, colourless, spots of white that was unreadable as hell; it was like staring into a dead man's eyes, into orbs that no longer breathed life. Everything about him seemed distant, like a dream in all the shifting mist.

Even his voice.

"I am Metus the Gatekeeper, a daemon of fear, " he said simply, voice devout of emotion, face smooth and flat, eyes white like mist, "I am of Hel."

"Hel?"

My voice was like a passing breeze.

"Aye," his eyes seemed to flutter slowly as he kept his eerie, mind-scraping white gaze on me, his lips barely moving, his arms above his head still as ice, "I am of Hel. I serve the Great Goddess Hel, she who rules the Underworld. I am her servant."

_Slosh, slosh,_

Hel.

_Hel._

I knew that name.

It seemed so long ago, but when Metus spoke it, a daze, a dream, I remembered the night back on the _Flying Dutchman, _sitting with Circe in her cell, listening to her tale of gods and Balder. I remembered the name, Hel; it seemed so faded, but it was there, a memory that pricked at the edge of my mind, like a rat nibbling at the side of my thoughts.

Hel.

_Hel._

I knew that name.

Blood dripped onto my pants in thick, red drops.

My stomach pleaded to wretch.

My heart barely moved.

"A daemon?" I looked at him, at his creature, this thing of Hel, as he said, my back prickling, my nerves shrieking with terror; daemon?

Yes.

He could easily be a daemon, if they existed.

What other creature in the world could possess such white eyes, could smell so, could make me feel so?

What other thing in the world could make me so bloody terrified, so scared and lonely and-

Daemon.

_Daemon._

Did such things really exist?

Did such creatures-

"Aye," he looked down at me, eyes dead and empty, voice a draggy whisper, "I am a daemon. A daemon of fear."

"Of Hel?"

"Aye. She is my creator, as Gaia is yours. I am her slave for eternity."

"Cheery thought."

"She is my queen."

"And your queen asked you to kill my friends?"

He paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on me, his head tilted slightly; I wanted to turn away, to look away from his eyes and row away, back to the ships. I didn't want to be in his presence for another more second; but what choice did I have?

What about Will?

And the others?

And Will?

I just couldn't leave them.

Could I?

_No, Joey._

_Stop it._

_Be strong._

_You can't abandon them._

_You can't leave them to die._

_Jared is there._

_So is Scarlett._

_And Will._

_You can't let Will die._

_You can't._

The blade hummed against my chest, fuelling my blood with warmth.

Warm light shone against my skin, brilliant and gold, fiery and strong.

My fingers were bloody around the metal.

_Hold on to the sword, Joey._

_Hold on, and you'll be safe._

_Hold on._

_Just hold-_

Metus was speaking again.

"I do not kill people," my toe curled into tight knots as his gaze still kept on me, like a predator watching its prey, ready to pounce at any moment, his dark hair shivering against his pale, handsome face, shuddering like window shutters before those empty white eyes, "I merely break them."

"I don't under-"

"I am of fear, human. A daemon of fear. I was created not to kill, but to enrapture the hearts of men, to tear the souls of mortals with terror. My queen did not bind me here to kill. She bound me here to corrupt minds."

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't even think.

"It is your weak-willed friends who gave in. It was them who crumbled beneath my strength and fell away into my queen's grasp. It was they who were too weak, they who chose their own deaths."

_Slosh, slosh._

It was all clear now.

All really clear.

Everything, everything started to make sense; the horrible mist, the feeling of being watched, the feeling of utter terror bubbling within me back on the ship- all of that had been this creature's doing.

This creature of fear.

This daemon.

It was so clear now.

So clear.

The sword had saved me, awaken me from the dream of his spell, his spell of fear, but I had slowly crawled back into it as I descended through the mist-the figures, the shadows, the flapping; all had been the spell.

There never had been any predator in the mist.

The mist had never been alive.

There never had been giant birds, some monsters, flapping through the white, stealthy as death..

There never had been anything.

There was nothing.

Everything had been an illusion, a trick.

A spell of fear.

The daemon of fear.

_Metus._

"You," I breathed as the truth, the realization slammed against me like a full-force waves, my eyes widening slightly, my breath slow and hesitant, my mind whirling with thoughts, "You make them fear."

"Aye."

"You…you c-create things in their head," a shimmer of tears clouded my vision as I looked away from the creature for a moment, from the daemon hanging from the post, arms cradling the glowing, bloody sword, eyes falling to wooden boards as mind churned, "You illusioned…you gave them illusions."

"Aye."

"You made them fear until they go mad."

He didn't need to answer.

For a moment, I just sat there, hugging the warm blade, glaring down at the creaking wooden boards beneath me as tears gathered in my eyes; I had no idea where they came from, but all of a sudden, when all the clarity hit me, it seemed so painful.

So maddening.

How was this happening?

How was any of this happening?

To me?

Alone?

I know I sounded like a whiny brat but I couldn't believe it; men were dying from fear, jumping in the waters, killing themselves because of ultimate, mind-blowing terror. Fear was killing them all.

_Fear was killing them._

_Fear was killing Will._

_Fear, in the name of this man before me, of this monster, this daemon tied to his post._

_Fear, in the name of Metus._

_I couldn't believe-_

"It is rather enjoyable, you know." Metus was speaking again, his drifting, airy voice breaking through my chaotic reverie, blinking harsh against my building, hot tears; with a quick snap of curls, I turned upwards towards the white-eyed man, towards his gleaming pale sockets and his handsome pale face, a mirage in all the white. His chapped lips were parted ever so slightly; I began to feel the pain of my palms, the pain of the sword digging into my skin and smearing my hands with rivers of blood. My head throbbed like a hammer against glass.

My heart beat one loud boom.

The air was still horrid as hell.

The sword was so warm.

"What?"

My voice barely made it out of my throat.

"My duty," his eyes were like glass, cool, clear glass, devoid of any life, "My post-fear is a quite amusing to watch, especially when I can design it. My queen has been very generous to me-do you know that, human? Do you know how kind my Goddess is to me? She lets me invent, lets me toy, lets me be…creative."

I held my breath, my cold, squeezing breath as I watched the monster before me with thick, burning eyes, my stomach twisting, my blood screaming with rage and fear. I couldn't possibly taste anything anymore.

The sword burned against my chest.

Blood felt like spires of fire on my skin.

_Slosh, slosh._

"Do you know how I do it?" He twisted his head a little, dark strands dangling, white eyes peering down at me through the shadowy mist, his voice dreamy and far-away, devoid of any emotion, "Do you know how, human? I start with the basic fear-the animalistic, instinctive fear that all you low lives have. I start with that; the fear of a predator, of a beast, of a dangerous animal ready to pounce on you and tear you limb from limb. That is where I start, with the instinctive fear."

_Instinctive fear._

_God._

_The shadows._

_The flapping._

_The breathing against my neck._

_The predator in the mist._

_The mist itself._

_It was just the beginning._

_Just the beginning._

I inhaled in the air, the stench of rotting flesh, of the putrid undead; my stomach rolled and tossed but all I could do to keep from retching across my lap was the very fact that a daemon, an actual daemon, was watching, staring me, waiting for me to crack. My fingers slid along the sword's burning side.

A pain began to itch at my bloody palms.

The blade's edge was cutting through my pants.

My tongue tasted like fire.

Metus spoke again.

"Then, of course, comes the ordinary fears," his voice was like a dream, his eyes like hot irons burning into my skin, his very presence, his very air creeping under my skin, driving me wild, "Simple things, like heights, spiders, witches…nothing much until the end. The very end…do you know, human? Do you know what they see at the end? Do you know what those nine…no, ten souls saw at their very end? Do you know what your friends are seeing?"

I bit my tongue as I glared at up at the creature, at his pallid eyes; the fear was there, gnawing away, biting, gnashing, but something else was growing in me, something strong, something powerful.

Something wild.

I sucked in the foul air as bloody hands gripped the sword even more tightly.

My blood felt like silt.

_Slosh, slosh._

"They see their worst fears, human. They see the very terror that grips them, and I'm not talking about spiders," his eyes were like ice and for a moment, for just a moment, I would sworn that his dry lips twitched up in a twisted smirk, "They see their loved ones die…I make them see their loved ones die. I make them see their blood, their rivers of red, fiery, tantalizing, sweet blood-"

"You monster!" the shout had come from nowhere, my voice peaking high into the mist, my heart jumping to a full start; with that, I was awake again, my senses springing alive, my blood pumping like crazy. Fear moulded into anger-for it was anger that had seized me so suddenly, anger that made me scream, anger that me glare up at this creature with utter hate. Fire burned through my veins as my right hand settled firmly over the glowing, gold hilt and in a single, swift movement, raised the sword in its upright manner, bloody fingers hard around gold design, the silver glowing blade glistening a brilliant crimson in front of me. My knees crouched instinctively, ready to pounce.

For I was mad now.

So very mad.

I was sick of being scared.

Sick of sitting here, in this boat, listening to this creature talk about what it was doing to my friends, what it was torturing them with; I didn't know what happened.

One moment, I was terrified, sitting like mouse, staring up at those white eyes with fear.

Next thing I knew, anger had overtaken me completely.

My head sang with violent rage.

_This bastard._

_This good-for-nothing, fucking-_

"Ah," Metus seemed to sigh, a weird thing for such his voice, for every word of his already seemed a sigh, his breath lazy and long, his eyes watching, unchanged by my outburst, "What I would have done to you! What misery I would have brought you! If only _he _hadn't interrupted me…you have a strong will, human. A strong heart. I would have loved such a challenge. I would have loved to watch you squeal."

_That's it._

_He's dead._

_He's gone._

_I'm going to stick him, gut him with the sword, make him bleed._

_I didn't care if he was a daemon or whatever._

_He's dead._

_I'm going to kill him._

_I'm going to hack him-_

"He?" Through the chaos of my surging, fuming mind, the red-silver blade a bright gleam in the white fog before me, the heat pushing against my hand, a strength like no other, I heard the creature's curious word, the tears in my eyes spent. My tongue tasted like roiling coals.

_He?_

"Aye," Metus nodded once, his head still tilted, his white eyes unblinking, his white sleeves ruffling against the dark of his vest, "He. He did not let me have my way with you."

For a moment, I just stared at him blankly, my anger, my rage forgotten in the unfolding of these new mystery; he? Who was he? Who was this person that Metus was talking about?

This person which prevented Metus?

Or was he just lying?

Then again, something _had _awaken me back on the ship-

_Balder._

The word just whispered in the back of my head, a startling whisper, a perfect whisper; the moment the word lingered in my head, the moment it tasted my tongue, I knew it to be true.

Balder.

Balder!

Of course!

It made perfect sense!

The voice, the voice back on the ship, had told me to grab the sword, to grab _Balder's _ sword.

It told me to grab the glowing blade, and it was that that had awaken me, that had pulled me out of Metus' tiring spell of fear.

It was Balder.

Balder the supposed god.

Balder, the owner of my sword.

Balder.

The Balder.

_Of course._

But wasn't he dead?

Didn't Circe say that-

"He lives in your blood," Metus spoke in his usual, dreamy tone, a far-away voice, stoned, in la-la land, "I can't do anything. Brilliant, though, I must say-the others never thought of it."

"Thought of what?"

"You."

I didn't understand the conversation. I didn't understand a darn thing; apparently, Balder was saving me from Metus, even though he was dead. Either that, or it wasn't Balder at all, and something else….

And then me.

What had I to do with anything?

And who the hell lives in my blood?

Who were the others?

What the fuck was-

_Slosh, slosh._

"Look," I shook my head clear of the mind-boggling confusion, breathing in the foul air, ignoring the churning of my insides as I glared up into those white eyes, finding my courage, finding my rage once again, "Let me and my friends pass. We mean no harm."

"Harm is in the eye of the beholder, human," he spoke with a lazy drawl now, still far away, still old, but now more tired, more resigned, his white eyes fluttering close for a moment before opening to brand me in cold white once more, "And there are some who will find you a harm-"

"Look," I gritted my teeth, my knees bunched in ready, my red fingers gripping the gold hilt with growing agitation, the white mist reaching at me from all sides, "I don't care for your stupid games, or stupid words. I don't care, alright? I don't care about the others, and this _person_, and this sick desire of yours to enter people's minds and twist them fear-"

"It is not a desire, human. It is what I am."

"Let us go," I looked hard, my heart twisting with fear, my blood thrashing with rage and desperation, "Please. Let my friends go; if you must, exchange their lives for mine. I'll stay, but they go-"

"A noble sacrifice, but futile, since he protects you-"

"Please! I'll do anything, anything at all-"

"Anything?"

I paused, and then nodded, breathy shaky, eyes stinging with exhaustion, with exasperation. Before me, up on the post, Metus looked as serene and emotionless as ever, his face blank, his eyes white and dead.

Cold and dead.

My heart was screaming in crazy lengths.

My blood felt like fire.

I gulped.

"Anything."

For a moment, Metus just stared at me, his terrible gaze like pyres of white fire, his lips unmoving, his silver buttons gleaming in the shivering white like stars, constellations against a black sky. Black strands, thick around as my finger, shifted, fluttered softly before his liquid white eyes, wavering and dark, black against pale. His skin seemed a sickly ashen.

His chapped lips parted slightly.

His chest didn't even move.

My skin crawled.

_Slosh, slosh._

"Then remember this, human," he looked at me, his eyes silent, his voice like a distant dream, a fog in a fog, my blood chilling as his lips released those words in a languid dance, "When you have finished what is wanted of you, hunt down the sirens who seek of you so dearly and bring me one of their heads."

"Sirens?" I gaped, my bloody fingers sliding against the gold engravings, the warmth, the glow, bright and warm and strong in my hand, my palms itching with pain; sirens? How the hell did this creature know of that? Had word truly spread of my killing of the siren? Or was this Metus like Circe, someone who bloody knew _everything_?

_God._

_I'm really getting sick of this people._

_First the Verdad, then Circe, then the Balder nonsense; now, this stupid, good-for-nothing, asshole-_

"Aye," Metus broke through my reverie yet again, his voice like a purr, so distant, so strange that I couldn't help but wonder of this creature, this daemon was stoned on something, his black-lined jaw dotted with dew, the mist licking against his sides, "The sirens. Circe's sirens; they are rather divine creatures, aren't they?"

"Divine?"

My palm was beginning to burn with pain, with bloody, raw pain.

My heart was shuddering like a branch in a pulling gale.

I held on to my sword.

"Aye. Their flesh is always so tender, so sweet."

"Flesh."

"Aye, human," the resignation had entered his voice again, a lazy drawl, a tired sigh drifting with his sleepy, dreamy voice, his eyes like orbs of ice, transcendent and glowing, "Their flesh. Bring me a head of a siren to dine upon, and your oath will be fulfilled."

"That's it? All I have to do is promise-"

"Aye, human, aye. Once you have completed the task that the world has brought before you, bring me the head of a siren. Promise me that."

I breathed in the foul air, staring up at the daemon, at this monster before me, at those white, white eyes; should I do it? Should I promise the head of a siren in return for the safety of my friends?

If I promised now, we all go free.

But what if I didn't keep my promise?

What if I didn't return with a siren's head; I had, of course, every intention to _never_ meet those sirens again, hunting me or not. Could I promise him a head, then?

A siren's head?

What if I didn't keep my promise?

_What hell would Metus put me through if I didn't keep my promise?_

_Slosh, slosh._

"Alright," my thumb slide across the warm rigging, the sweet fire liquid draped across my skin, burning against my every senses, my stomach twisted into a dead knot, "I promise."

Before me, tied up on the wooden post, eyes gleaming white and blank like ice in the shivering, whispering fog, the daemon looked down at me and smiled, his lips twisting to the sides in a shadowy smirk, mad and dark like a passing black.

My skin crawled with major creeps.

My heart screamed.

I could taste nothing.

"I shall hold you to that."

And with that, Metus the Gatekeeper disappeared into the whispering white.

**Ta-DA!**

**This was a really, really, really, really, really, really long one so I'm extremely sorry. I tried to cut it down but yea…it's really long. So, once again, I truly apologise. **

**On a second note, the story; I know this story has been ridiculously long, and people I know are already complaining about it. No fear, though; this story has only about 8 or so chapters more to go. That's pretty a lot for me, but I going to work really hard to finish this in the next month.**

**On a third note, I'm going to be writing a sequel on this fanfic. This fic is already so long, so there's going to be a sequel to it. It's going to be called, "The Painting in the Attic: War of the Gods." I already have an idea about what it is about, and don't worry; it's not going to be as long as this one. I'm pretty excited to start on that one, so wish me luck!**

**Lastly, the word "daemon" used in this chapter is pronounced as demon-this is just a word used in association with the Greek evil sprits. Just so you know it.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews guys, and please comment on my review page on whatever you want-my writing, or this prospect of a sequel. I love to hear from you guys! See ya!**

**XOXO**


	42. Trauma And Lies

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**Enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 40: Trauma and Lies**

"And that was it?" Will asked firmly with a twisted look to his face, his lips snaking in a cynical frown, his brow furrowed with repeated lines, "Nothing else happened?" The warm of the fire's glow, orange and leaping in the dark of the study slashed across his face, light fighting shadow; even in the gloom of his study, in the gloom of the enclosed room and wavering fire-light, it was not hard to see that the captain of the _Flying Dutchman _was tired, his cheeks sagging, his eyes dull with wear. His slender shoulders, strict and firm as they always were, were limp, low with tire, arms resting crossed against his chest. His entire weight seemed to be slumped down on his seat-the edge of this broad, wooden table. His hair hung dead upon his shoulders.

Yes.

Captain William Turner was exhausted.

But that didn't stop him.

"Yes," I stifled a little yawn as I gazed around the room, at the four misfits that stared at me from different corners, their gaze like hot irons, branding me awake, "Like I said, he just let me go."

"Just like that?"

"Yes…how many times do you want me to repeat this?"

"It's all just sounds too strange, lass," Barbossa's cracking, old voice filtered through the air like the snapping of wood, much like the spitting fire that glowed behind Will's back, a toasting cascade of orange and shadow, dancing about the giant fireplace, bright and gleaming, warm to touch; the old pirate was standing there, beside the fire, arm crooked upon the silver mantle, sundial of a hat hovering over his features and hiding away his yellow eyes. He wasn't staring at me, not that I could see anyway; he seemed to be studying the ground, his hook of a nose peaking out from under the dim of his hat, his head bent down towards the shadows below. Below, above the glint of his silver buttons and gleaming rapier, his dry lips were set in a thin line, the firelight creeping upon them, playing them. Little Jack sat upon his shoulder, quieter then usual, beady black eyes watching me like a shark's.

Bloody monkey.

Will yawned.

"Strange?" I mumbled tiredly, my voice hoarse as my ripen fingers closed around the neck of the bottle again; without another word, I glided my painful fingers around the glass bottle and kicked it back to my mouth, gulping down the sweet rum that lay within its misty, dirty depths. Fire, liquid fire, sweet and raw, burned down my throat as the red rum gurgled through my mouth, filling me with taste.

Sweet, tantalizing taste.

The truth was, rum, no matter how strong and bitter-sweet it was, was still no match to a good old bottle of beer. As I gulped down a mouthful of the stale drink, pricking me awake, washing me in a sweeping fire, I couldn't help but wish for some beer, some cold, chilled beer cocked open, served by the sweaty hands of a pudgy bartender; as I drank the alcohol, eyes closing in satisfaction, I imagined myself sitting at the back of Jasper's truck, the boys slumped before me, pressing our lips to glass bottles and tasting the bitter liquid as we laid back against the metal and stared up into the summer sky.

The boys.

_The boys._

_My boys._

_My best friends._

_I wonder what they are up to, now that I'm gone._

_I wonder if they're missing me._

_Unless, of course, this was like Narnia, and time was not passing at all back home._

_Maybe no one was missing us, because weren't missing at all, and that when we go back home in the end, just like the Pevensies, we'll come out into the attic, just as we had left it._

_Maybe time hasn't passed at all back home._

_Maybe no one was missing us._

As I sat there, upon my stool, relishing the refreshing rum, dreaming of a time now gone, Will spoke again, his voice strained, tired, stretched.

"It _is _strange," he agreed solemnly, prying my eyes open, his face quiet and tired, the fire in his eyes like burning cinders, haunting and odd, "All of this is strange. I mean, the whole-"

"You're the undead captain of a ghost ship, Will."

"Yes, but a daemon?" there was a twitch, a twitch of tired muscles, half his handsome face cascaded in a wavering watershed of deep, earthly amber, the other half forgotten and lost in the leaping shadows, "A daemon of fear? As an obstacle towards the Fountain? A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Ah, but our lives are a test'tament to de dramtics, eh savvy?"

It was Sparrow, and his surly, deep voice caused me to drop my bottle back towards my lap and to turn my head, away from the fire, away from Will and Barbossa; off to my right, leaning against the wall beside the full-length window was Sparrow, hidden away in the shadows, boots glinting in the bright of the shivering fire. I could barely see him, so hidden he was in the dark, so blended into the midnight abyss; beside him, the curtains were drawn open, the window showing a world collapsed into the black of night. No stars shone, no moon; the only light there seemed to me right now was the leaping fire behind Will's back, an inferno of hell, orange and yellow, a cascade of light, springing across the wooden study, twirling and spiralling with the jovial shadows. Everything seemed toasty warm.

Sparrow's eyes gleamed like sparks of pale fire in the eternal gloom.

Little Jack uttered a soft, apian cry, casual and fleeting.

My stomach growled.

"That's _your_ life, Jack," Will's voice had an edge in it as he threw a side-long gaze at the near-invisible pirate, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion, a sigh stretching across his hardened face, his hair still in the warm air, "Not ours. Some of us like a simpler life."

"I like the dramatics."

"Of course you do," Barbossa croaked in reply to my casual pip, eyes to the ground, an epic figure limed against the leaping fire as Will's retraced his dark, haunting eyes back to me, his face emotionless, weary, strained and tired as hell, "You're de only one who could break from dat cretin's spell, and den, yer sail right on through it. I believe, lass, dat u and Jack are of the same, hollow make."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"It's a compliment, luv. Trust me."

"Am I the only one who's concerned with what exactly happened back there?" Will threw a dark look over at Sparrow as the hidden pirate finished his last statement, his eyes winking through the night, a Cheshire's grin beaming like a half-faced moon; before me, Will was exasperated, his brow bent and twisted, his frown deep, his eyes dropping in apparent weariness. Every part of him, from his slender arms to the eyes that I loved so much, screamed exhaustion, pure bloody tiredness. Curls framed his face in a lazy, dank spiral.

He was annoyed.

And tired.

Bloody tired.

Will.

_Will._

Here he was, yet again, alive, breathing, moving, speaking, not dead. Here he was, right in front of me, his eyes full of fire, his breathing calm and casual. Here he was, within reach, his body moving with life, his lips speaking words, his muscles moving languidly.

Here he was.

Alive.

Will was alive.

Or as alive as he could be, anyway.

I couldn't but smirk at my inner joke as the pirates before me continued the discussion, ignoring me upon the stool, figures in the fiery dark; I should be happy. This was what I wanted, wasn't it?

Will.

Alive.

And he was alive.

He was standing right in front of me, living, breathing….

And different.

There was something different about him.

Something gnawing.

Something-

"What I want to know, lass" Barbossa voice, for some reason, brought me back to the world, like a tree crashing down against the forest floor, loud, cracking, lightning in the sky, "is how yer, of all people, were able to break away from dis…dis…May...May-"

"His name is Metus."

"Aye, him…de daemon…ah…. daemons…I, of one, am not entirely convinced of that."

"You were cursed by an ancient medallion, killed, and then brought back from the dead by a crazy sea goddess," Will was looking at me again, his eyes like burnt jewels, bright, beautiful but faded with edge, with tire, his lips still snaked in a tired frown, "You're telling me you don't believe in daemons?"

"Haven't met one yet, now have I?"

"It doesn't matter if yer have," Sparrow spoke lowly, oddly calm, oddly normal, his eyes like stars in a lone black sky, "De lass did. She saw it."

"Aye, but she could be lying no?"

"Why would I lie?" I raised a single eyebrow as I pulled my eyes away from Will's, away from his oh-too-casual gaze, drumming the sloshing bottle against my knee, eyes settling upon the hidden features of the older man; without a word, Captain Hector Barbossa raised his head, his yellow eyes peering over the lip of his hat, like orbs of bright, startling and strangely beautiful in all the leaping shadows. At his shoulder, Little Jack was silent, his black beady eyes trained on me, tail whipping up against his master's plume-hat. His little fangs jutted over his mouth.

Barbossa was an odd pale.

The wood rolled beneath our feet.

My right palm seemed to be swelling.

"Yer an unusual one, lass," he croaked, his face still, his lips bleak, his features completely devoid of emotions, something I hadn't seen on him before, "I don't really know with yer."

"But I have no reason to lie, Cap-"

"Yet yer were de one who somehow, for some reason, won't affected by de spell-"

"I told you," I bit in my words, wrapping my sore palm, my pained fingers tighter around the cool, half-filled glass as I glared over at Barbossa, boot tapping against rolling wood, yellow eyes squinted together, watching passively and palely from beneath the large, black hat, "I don't know. One minute, I was just…feeling…. afraid…terrified, of the mist and everything and confused and then-"

"Then what?" It was Will, his eyes on me; in a quick's breath, I drew my weary gaze away from Barbossa and back onto the man in front of me, meeting his own weary dark pools with my own. Firelight danced across his face, minarets, beautiful and tantalizing; for a moment, we just stared at each other, at the colours in his face, at the way the firelight played with the curl of his hair, at the way his eyes seemed like gleams of burning cinders….

I hated this.

I hated him.

I hated him looking at me.

I hated the feel of his eyes on me, staring at my face, quiet, haunted, a bloody enigma.

I hated him watching him.

I hated him.

I hated his very presence.

Why was I even here again?

Oh, right.

Because I had to "de-brief" them.

Like they were my captains.

Like I was part of their crew.

…..

Wait.

Was I?

_Was I?_

My palms still felt like they were on fire.

"Then," I frowned, letting my frustration, my annoyance, my weariness match that of Will's, wrapping my sore, pained fingers tighter around the bottle, my voice turning a slower notch, a mock creeping into it, "I woke."

"Just like that?"

"Just…Like….That."

"Without any…any assistance?"

"No-look, I told you already. I told you a hundred times. For some reason, for some arcane reason, I woke up from Metus' spell before it…got…bad…and I don't why, ok? I don't know _why _or _how _I woke up-maybe…maybe…I don't know….maybe I have strong will or something."

"Strong will?" It was Will's turn to have a mock in his voice as his lips, his thin, tired, bleak lips lifted slightly in a smirk, a quick dash of humour playing across his weary face; behind him, by the leaping, bright fireside, Barbossa let out a soft chuckle, amused as he was, his tired face leaping with renewed life, his yellow eyes dancing with a pinch of mirth. His head bent down again, hiding his eyes and crow nose but his smile was evident, his lips pulled out into a bleak, slight grin. Little Jack had his tiny mouth opened.

From his corner, in the ink black, Sparrow's Cheshire grin seemed to have only grown wider.

The fire cackled like a witch's laugh, spitting and sizzling, giggling and chuckling.

The wood rolled beneath our feet.

Scabs oozed away at my palm.

_Bloody pirates._

"I'm sorry," I let my irritation, my anger, my down-right annoyance show right through a twisted, dark, forced smile as I glared at my three companions, especially at the man that sat right before me, at his dry humoured eyes and wry lips and luscious dark hair curling around his fine ears, "But was _I _the one that went through the nine circles of hell?"

That shut them up.

It seemed, that for a second, I had just nailed them through their heads, killing their brief humour, smiting away any fragments of enjoyment; for a second, it seemed a dark curtain had descended upon the room, the smiles of my companions dropping, their voices ceasing to silence. Before me, sitting upon his table, Will's face fell completely, his eyes dying, his lips fading away into some distant memory; he looked away, away above my head, into the encroaching black, all sense of life dissipating from his face like froth in the sea, his muscles tensing, his jaw clenching shut. Something dark passed over his features, something dark and silent; for a moment, he was lost to us.

To me.

And then, in a gentle swing, the man turned down to me again, his eyes falling upon my head like snowflakes, gentle and wayward, lost, confused; there was something in his eyes now, something pulling as he watched me, something that twisted his face and made his grimace, something that made him pain-

"How much did yer see?" It was Barbossa, and as I pulled away from those tormenting circles, from those wayward, dark eyes resting atop my head, I turned to him, to his figure limed at the other side of the fireplace, the fire shedding him half in gold; there was a twist in his face, an agony, as if he had just gulped down a live frog, slimy and writing, disgusting as hell. His face was screwed up, his yellow eyes squinted together….

Upset.

He was upset.

And why shouldn't he be?

I just reminded him of Metus' torment.

A torment that I, luckily, never received.

Off to the corner, somewhere in the dark, I could hear Sparrow prowling about, his boots padding against the rolling wood, soft like the paws of an animal, rhythmic, dull.

I think my palms were beginning to bleed again.

"What?"

"Yer heard me. How much of dis…. spell…did yer see?"

"Not much," I answered gingerly, shifting my gaze from the twisted-face Barbossa and the wayward, pained Will, his eyes burning like soft embers, crystal in the dark, "I….just the beginning…."

"Just the beginnin'?"

"Yes," I nodded once, eyes open, conscious of the change in the room, conscious of Will's suddenly pained eyes upon me, his thoughts far away, his jaw clenched shut, muscles popping tight, "Metus told me….he said…he said that he began the spell with instinctive fear-"

"And that was all yer saw?"

"Yes."

"Instinctive fear?"

"Yes."

"Before yer magically woke up?"

"Yes. I told you already. I don't how, but I did."

"Aye, and den yer sail on right through de mist, alone-"

"Yes."

"And den, when yer meet dis creature of yers-"

"Metus-"

"When yer met him, all alone, in de middle of this enchantment, free from his spell, yer just talk yer way out of it?"

"I told you," I breathed slowly, eyes flickering to Will, who's passive pain seemed to be fading away, his eyes regaining their focus, Sparrow's padded feet walking in circles in the dark, my sore fingers sliding about the cool glass," He just let us go."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Why?"

"I don't know, you idgit, "I scowled over at the circling Sparrow, a shadow prowling through the dark, the glint of the rapier, his buttons and beads like shimmers of pale in the abyss, his footsteps soft, rhythmic upon the lurching wood, "He just did, so shouldn't you lot just be grateful that it's all over? I've got you guys out of this and-"

"Promised what in return?" Will's voice was quiet, distant, and when I looked at him, his face, features were weary again, lines marking his face, eyes burning like a faded, exhausted flame, his shoulder slump down in the dark, a beautiful shadow against the leaping fires. Circlets of brown, thick and luscious caught the blazing light, orange and gold dancing upon his tired face, highlighting each feature, each line, each perfect detail. His gold hoop winked at his ear.

The pain had faded from his face but the scars were still there, long and hard, prominent, his eyes twisted and dark by something I couldn't understand.

Something, perhaps, I would never understand.

Behind him, Barbossa spat into the fire, his lips a thin, grim line.

Little Jack hooted softly.

The wound of my right palm was feeling particularly sore.

I yawned.

"Nothing,"

"Really?"

"Yes, _Will_. Nothing. I promised nothing."

"Really? Because the last time, the last time when you went out, alone, to meet something beyond supernatural and come back triumphant claiming wit and charm as your weapon, you ended up promising something that I don't even know about, something potentially dangerous. The last thing I need now-"

"Will, would you just _shut up_? I didn't promise anything, ok? Metus just let us go; I don't know why, but he did, and isn't that all that matters? Isn't the end more important then the means?"

"Not when it comes to you, no."

"_I didn't promise anything._"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Joey-"

"I didn't, Will."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

_Liar._

Even as I sat there, staring up at Will's dark eyes, watching as his face slowly sank into acceptance and a sort of calm, a word gnawed at my heart like a rabid dog, tearing at the sides, killing me slowly, agonizingly. Blood seemed to pour out of the wound.

_Liar._

_I'm a liar._

_Here I am, lying straight to Will's face, like a bloody bastard, not caring for him at all._

_Here I am, lying to Will._

_I have lied before, tons of times; I lied to my dad when I went out to meet the others, to avoid the chores, I lied to my teachers about not bringing my homework when I never actually did it, I lied to the neighbours about TP-ing the old house next door…._

_I lie._

_I always lie._

_But to Will?_

_Why the hell was I lying to Will?_

_Why couldn't I just tell him, tell the captains about everything; about the deal between Circe and I, about this Balder, about how the sword had saved my life…_

And yet, as I sat there, watching the pirates before me, the light of the fire cascading the ceiling in a mosaic of orange and black, I couldn't speak; at my side, hanging awkwardly off my hips, the gold-hilted sword no longer gleamed like before but still caught the light of the fire, beautiful in its glow, the reflections of flames leaping about the silver blade like the tongues of hell, sporadic and wild. The red ruby beamed its transcendent beauty, the firelight dancing in its red world, like a burning eye, ever-watching. Gold licked like the flames itself.

My right hand, my bleeding, sore right hand reached down and softly glided my bitten fingers against the pommel, tracing the gleaming design, kissing the cool metal against the wounded skin. Light played like a mirage before my eyes.

_Liar._

_I'm a liar._

_But why?_

_I could just tell him._

_I could just tell him about how Circe was bound to me, until she led us to the Fountain of Youth._

_I could just tell him about how the sword I carried, the sword I stole, had supposedly belonged to a dead pagan God._

_I could just tell him how a voice, a whispery voice at the back of my head had woken me from Metus' spell, a voice I believed, with little conviction, to belong to this fabled God, Balder._

_I could just tell him how the sword had glowed earlier, beautiful, alive, humming, warm, giving me the strength, saving my life._

_I could just tell him._

_I could just tell him about everything._

_I could._

_So why didn't I?_

"None of this make sense then," Will furrowed his brow again, frowning again down at me, half his face eaten away by the dark, his soft eyes burning slowly, embers twirling in dark brown, his lips pursed together, "Why you? Why you, of all people? Why?"

_Liar._

I knew why.

I knew.

But I wouldn't say.

For some reason, I wouldn't say.

I just sat on the stool, hand smooth against gold hilt, bottle sloshing red by my knee, eyes staring up at Will; he was so beautiful in the light, his life, his soul, screaming through his every feature, my hands aching to reach forward and trace his face, to run my fingers across his coarse skin, through his wild, dark hair, our breaths mingling into one, his eyes like brilliant, beautiful pyres of leaping flames….

I love him.

I love him.

But I was lying to him.

For no bloody reason.

My voice was bare squeak.

"Strong will?"

Sparrow laughed.

**8888888888888888888888**

"I hate men," I announced loudly enough as I stormed into the room, the door slamming shut behind me with a loud, echoing _bang,_ wood crashing against wood, filling the wide alcove with the sound of turning waves and booming thunder. In front of me, lying back on his own bed at the right of the room, firelight trembling upon his still, flat form, Jared didn't stir, his head a blaze of gold in the candle's light, his eyes sightless towards the ceiling. His chest moved up and down in the semi-darkness, his arms curved like a pillow beneath his head; he was awake, yet he didn't answer me as I charged my way through the room, boots thundering against the wood like loud gunshots, shaking planks, shaking nails. He barely even breathed.

Bloody git.

"Did you hear me?" I whipped my hair around, throwing a scowl over to my passive brother as my thundering march carried me to my bed, my long strides stretching through the shadows, my cot dull and cosy in the whispery light of flickering yellow. In front of me, behind our beds and opposite the door, the room-long window was wide open, letting in the fresh sea air, the sound of crashing, tossing waves and the eternal blackness that was the night we left behind. Sweet wind, tantalizing, flirting, drifted into the wide space, pushing against the fair curtains, flickering the single flame like a sail, breaching, breasting against the sea gale. Everything smelled of fresh, sweet salt.

And sweat, of course.

My mouth still tasted of dried chicken.

My palms felt like throbbing hearts.

Without another word, I crashed down onto my bed, dropping my ass heavily onto the blue blankets, knees buckling in defeat; the room was dim, the candle-light washing everything in a minute shade of orange, glistening the nails, the wood a soft, ember gold. Shadows leaped up and about, round and round as the ship rolled about on the sea, dark figures dancing through the abyss, shapes shifting, playing with the shivering light. The world seemed a mosaic of darkness and light, soft, beautiful light that rocked, sang with the sea, like a sweeping lullaby….

God.

I really needed to get to sleep.

As I sat there, staring at the world around me, exhaustion thick in my bones, shoulders heavy, palms bleeding still, I gazed over at my brother, a mere figure upon the bed, hidden mostly away from the glow of the candle's flame upon the table; he was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, his elbows sticking out as his palms cupped the underside of his heavy head. I could barely his face in the trembling darkness, a shadow against the night of wooden wall but he was definitely there, a spirit, a ghost, lying still upon the soft mattress, breathing deep into the night. His boots gleamed by the side of the bed, the silver rim catching the faded glow of the candlelight, empty boots, blending into the black. His hair gleamed like brilliant gold.

Or was he asleep?

"Oi."

"What?" His voice was a drag, a long drag, tired, exhausted, as if he were talking in his sleep; there was irritant in his voice, his hoarse tenor streaked with the honey lines of turning emotions, his tone rough, uneven. He sounded pissed, and tired; for a second, I paused, staring over at my brother, staring at his quiet, dark form upon the bed.

The candlelight wobbled a dim glow.

The wind sang sweet.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Jared answered simply enough, his voice tight, tight with strange emotions; I couldn't see him, not in the shivering dark but the glow of the candle, the trembling gold light played upon his hair and the rim of his clothes, the hard leather glistening, the frail strands like bits of straw, bright against the dark. His right elbow was washed with light too, his chest heaving up and down against the black wall; he was a shadow, a myth, at the other end of the room.

I really should get my palms treated.

"Nothing?" I looked down at my palms, studying the red lines that burned through my skin, the shadows hiding most of it away from my view, scabs cracking and oozing, "You're upset."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Where's the lovely Scarlett-Marie?"

"In her room."

"Ah. I get it now. Lover's quarrel?"

"Drop it, Joey," his voice was harsh, like a stab in my stomach, full of unwarranted anger, grief, confusion; for a moment, I couldn't help but wonder if it truly was Jared upon that bed, talking to me, barely even bothering to show his face. He sounded so strange, so odd; there was something in his voice, something hard, something tough, something obviously bitter. There was anger, raw anger, like a bull charging, like a murderer's vicious knife, and then, at the same time, something else, something verging on deep sadness…

No.

Not Jared too.

Everyone was like this, every busboy, every midshipman, every bloody pirate; ever since my return from Metus, my soft paddling through the silent waters, the mist dissipating in my wake and opening the quiet sea and blue sky again, freeing us from the enchantment once and for all, every one had been acting this way, waking from their slumber, their stupor with something completely different in them. Identical blank, lifeless looks had been replaced with that of pale eyes, quiet lips, and frayed faces; it was like staring at dolls, puppets held up my strings, walking mindlessly around, devoid of any direction…

Trauma.

They were traumatised.

After all, after what had Metus done to them….

None of them had talked to me.

As I had climbed onto the ghost ship, smiling at the fact that they were moving, grinning like an idiot at the fact that everyone was alive and well-all except those nine men, of course-, they had just ignored me, their eyes glazing my returned figure and then disappearing into some hole, into some world when the memories of Metus' spell, of their worst and darkest fears leeched at them, sucking them dry. They all looked like zombies, the actual undead; I couldn't speak, could barely utter a word at the men who lumbered about, keeping to themselves, reliving their fears over and over and over….

And the Captains had it too, I'm sure.

I had seen a bit of it, after all.

A bit of their fear.

_What was I supposed to do?_

_What was I supposed to do with people who had just witnessed their worst nightmare, who had just visioned all their loved ones dying?_

_What was I supposed to do with people caught in their own fears?_

_I hadn't seen it._

_I was pulled off the spell earlier on; I hadn't gone through what they did._

_I hadn't gone through it._

_How the hell was I supposed to act, then?_

_How?_

_Consoling?_

_Comforting?_

_Or should I just leave them alone?_

_I had already unsettled Sparrow, Barbossa and Will…._

_What should I do?_

_What?_

"Do know who were ones who died back there?"

_Idiot._

_Stupid idiot._

_What kind of question is that?_

_What kind of moron am I?_

_Maybe I should just shut up, and let this all slide; Jared and the others are bound to forget soon, to let it go and get over it. I mean, they were pirates after all._

_Isn't being tough pretty much in their job description?_

_But Jared wasn't a pirate._

_No._

_He's an 18-year-old high school footballer, a mere teenager._

_He isn't tough._

_He isn't emotionally strong._

_Is he?_

_I never quiet knew with my brother._

"Jared, you can talk to me."

"I don't want to talk, Joey," it was sigh now, a heavy, thick sigh, like the straining of the ropes, weary as hell; beside me, the wind sang through the open window, filling the world with the sweet smell of salt, tugging at my heavy curls, pushing against tired skin. The loose of my pale yellow sleeves fluttered white in the serene darkness, like sails, the wood rolling softly and gently beneath my feet; beyond, the world was eternally black, not a star or moon in sight.

For some reason.

My right palm was beginning to bleed fire again.

"Jared-"

"I said I didn't want to talk, Joey."

"But I can help, J…. I could…I can-"

"Can what?" his voice was a sigh, a deep sigh, tired, strained, as if my brother had just come back from a mind-boggling adventure that had left him completely shredded to the bone, "Help? You already told me, Joey. Back on deck, earlier-I know you didn't go through it. How can you possibly help when you don't even know what happened?"

"I know….Jared….It w-was…..Balder….Someone h-had to-"

"Balder?" In the dark, I heard my brother shift slightly, blankets ruffling together, fabric scratching against fabric, the dim candlelight wobbling as the ship rocked back and forth on quiet waves, voice hoarse and stretched, hollow, "You mean he did this? He did this…to us?"

"No," I said softly, cool liquid stinging at my palms, staring quietly at my brother's dark figure, my eyes puffy and heavy, "I think he saved me, Jared. I think."

"Why? Because he's your _heir_?"

"Because someone had to stop it," I raised an eyebrow helplessly as the mockery, the bitterness in Jared's voice carried through the room, floating upon the sweet air, casual, voice coarse and strange; I had wanted to him, to tell both him and Scarlett about what _really _happened with Metus, about the sword, about the voice….

But he had avoided me.

They all had.

As I had come abroad, triumphant, relieved at their wake, everyone avoided me, thrown deep into their fears, locked away in their worst nightmares, forgotten puppets. They didn't see me, they didn't talk to me; only the captains had acknowledged me, and even then in a shaky, unnerving state.

_What did Metus do to them?_

_What on earth-_

"You took your own sweet time at it."

"I did my best, Jared," Now, my own voice hardened, my throat tightening, my palms itching as hell as I stared over at my lying brother, at his still, dark form, "You know that. I…P-Perhaps I could have rowed faster…but I was scared, Jared. I was scared, but I did, didn't I? You, and the others, you're all-"

"Don't tell that you did it!" In a blink of an eye, Jared rolled over, turning on his side, bringing his elbows down and resting on his side, his dark form snapping into the light; before I could even breathe, the candlelight caught Jared's face and there he was, glaring, mouth open, chest panting, eyes a terrible, cold blue. Dark hoods sagged from beneath the icy orbs, lines streaking across his pale face; the candlelight wavered only upon his face, like a ghost peering over at me, his body lost in the darkness. Darkness and light competed over his hovering eyes; anger, vivid, clear anger, like a snarling beast, terrifying and cold, glared right at me by the flame's glow, shadows shivering across his face like a passing mirage. His lips were curled in disdain, his jaws tight and wounded, his nose flared with harsh breathing. Blue eyes, the colour of stormy sea screamed out at me.

It was like staring at the face of rage, looming over the wavering candle's flame.

I held my shivering breath.

My palms ached.

_Jared._

"Jared-"

"You didn't do it!" his voice was a hiss, snarling, rage spilling out of every feature, his voice suddenly unfamiliar, his eyes hot with scorching fury, "You didn't do it fast enough! If you had stopped thinking about yourself for one minute, for one fucking minute-"

"Jared, I'm sorry-"

"Do you know what I had to go through?" There was so hatred in his voice as he glared at me, his eyes smoking with spite, his lips curled away into a horrifying snarl, my brother, my family, disappearing into reek, "Do you know what I saw? What Scarlett saw? What we all saw? Do you? No…No…you didn't, because _Balder_ saved you. Because you, selfish, childish, murderer-"

"I am not a murderer!"

"Because of you, nine are dead!"

"Jared, that was not m-"

"Why you? Why you? Why were you the one that _Balder _saved? Why? What's so special about you? There's nothing special about you-you're just a stupid, ignorant, fucking slut-"

"Ja-"

"WHY YOU? WHY YOU? WHY DID _I _HAVE TO SUFFFER INSTEAD OF YOU?"

I couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe as I stared at my brother, at this monster that glared at me with such hate, with such pure, untainted hate….

He was mad.

He was sad.

He was twisted, angry, confused-

Metus.

Metus had done this.

Metus had twisted his mind, had filled him with taunting, gnawing fears.

Metus had done this.

_Bloody hell._

Quietly, I drew up to my feet, my eyes pulling away from Jared's raging one, the ugly, red face peering over the glimmering candlelight, blue eyes screaming pure, bloody vile, teeth gnashed together. Cloth rippled into ease as my weary muscles and bones pulled up once more, and with my eyes staring down at my dirty, metal boots, I headed to the door with slow steps, breathing in and out, tasting the sweet air, sweet as rum.

My lungs felt dried as prune.

My tongue was dry as paper.

My heart panged with guilt.

He was right.

Why was I so lucky?

What have I done to deserve it?

With a sigh, I pulled open the wooden door open, creaking rusty hinges, moaning old wood, opening to a black, black world.

_What's so special about me?_

"I'm sorry, Jared."

**TA-DA!  
**

**Ok. Not my best chapter. And my shortest too, I think. Anyway, this chapter is just to show how the pirates are after Metus, what the side-effects are…I'll explore it later on, but this is just to give you an idea. Honestly, I really hate this chapter. It's truly not my best, so I apologise. Review me anyway! I love to hear from you guys! SEE YOU!**

**XOXO**


	43. You're Insane

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Ok. So I'll be doing a sequel, and this one will be done in about 8 or so chapters. I already have everything planned out, and truth be told, I'm bloody excited! Anyway, enjoy this short one!**

**Chapter 41:**

"What is this again?" I scrunched my nose as I peered down at the green sludge, the thick, oily liquid encircling my wrists and drowning my sore, bloody fingers in a pit of foul-smelling lush. It was a ripe green, thick chunks of hairy moult floating aimlessly about the dark bowl, the shiver of the midnight fire above the door casting fiery shadows about its black-green surface. It was cool and heavy to touch, my fingers like lead in the thick slime, my wrists etched with shivering bracelets of putrid. It smelt as awful and nasty as it looked.

_Bloody hell._

Opposite me, sitting up on her cot with dark, hard hands grinding green sludge in a small bowl with a pounder, her ink black hair tied behind and her soft cerulean silk splayed against royal red, Circe answered in her twinkling tone, her voice like spring waters seeping through the cracks and laughing down upon white-ringed rocks. Circlets of black fell over her forgotten eyes.

"Herbs. Herbs that will heal your hands, little one," she was a mirage in the firelight, the toasting flame above the cell door playing wayward, bright shadows all about her, her dark legs cocked to one side, her granite eyes trained upon the pounding and grinding of her hand, "You should be more careful with your blade you know. True warriors do not get hurt by their own blades." Her feet were bare beneath the blue of her dress, their languid forms hanging gently off the side of the cot; the cell was dim, the only light the one that roared above the cell door, licking the ceiling with tongues of precious fire, shivering shadows all about the darkness. The rest of the world was dark, ethereally dark; metal bars gleamed from the left to the right, a bright dull in the quivering shadows, dancing with the light of the brilliant, hot flames like pillars and pillars of fire, stretching from the wooden ground to the bright ceiling above. Darkness beckoned from beyond, liquid darkness, liquid black, quiet and distilling, rocking gently with the purr of the sleeping ocean. Rats squealed and chattered among themselves, voices high, claws chitterling against the wooden boards; from above me, way above me at the ceiling, stuffy heat pressed down, the fire reaching high up against the oak, smoking it with light, tingling it with danger. The smell of burning grass pines and rotten metal filled the chilled world like a quiet, calling breeze.

Despite the fire, everything was still cold.

The slime felt like writhing puke.

"Herbs?" I raised an eyebrow at the busy demi-goddess, at her lovely, lithe form tinted gold in the brilliance of the fire above us, her dark skin almost blending right into the icky black wall behind her, "We're on a ship, in the middle of the ocean. Where the hell did you get herbs from?"

"All around us."

"What?"

As if in answer, the quiet witch, with dark curls hanging before her, perched nose and curved lips thinned in silence, stopped her pounding; she dropped the pedestal down onto the bowl in her hand and with her free fingers and downcast eyes, twisted her body and reached behind her, nails scraping against the icky black slime of the dark, dark walls. Writhing barnacles and purple algae gave way beneath her fingers as she scraped some off the darkened wall, disgusting slime sticking in between fingers and leeching onto her skin like living, slimy, black; without a word, the woman before me grabbed the black algae from the wall behind, the slimy, black ick, and dropped it into her bowl with a sickening, bile-calling _plop_.

The ship rocked away beneath my body, the cold wood boards under me vibrating with the lull of the ocean, the floor slanting up and down.

The fire torched like a singing siren up above, the smell of burning wood filling the air, choking slightly with black smoke.

The dungeons still tasted rotten.

"EWWW!"

"They are still plants, child."

"Plants?" I felt my face give way into one of horror, my jaw dropping, my eyes flying down to the gunk, the slimy, green gunk that swirled around my fingers and shackled my hands in disgusting, cold yuck, "PLANTS? T-THOSE THINGS-"

"Those _things _are living things, Joey, with souls and make-ups of their own. They feed, they need water, they grow in a bunch….they are plants, of a different form, yes, but they are green and though immobile, they are all part of The Great Spirit. We use their bodies, their shells, to satisfy our survival needs, but their spirits are never the less pure. Besides, didn't Sparrow convinced you to draw some algae on your face once?"

"No he didn't," I replied as sulkily as I could, squinting my eyes at the dark demi-goddess, the green sludge miserable around my still-sore fingers; before me, Circe had returned to her pounding, her slender fingers wrapping around the stone pedestal and banging the blunt stone against the green ick again, the copper bowl glinting specks of gold in the shadowy light. Her sharp nails looked like talons against the rusty gold; her black hair, like ink in the straying, rocking dark, were tied to the sides of her head, two identical thick black braids curving, bridling her head and meeting at the end in a thick, tight knot. Sprawling black trails of fine curls twirled all the way down to her neck, kissing against dark skin, gleams of bright streaking through dark as if her hair was inlaid with gold. Soft azure silk whispered against red in the night.

Rats squabbled irritably off in the darkness.

My fingers tingled with pricking soreness.

The smell was dreadful.

My eyes felt heavy.

_Algae._

_My wounded hands were being treated by algae._

_Did anything in this world make sense anymore?_

"No, he did," the demi-goddess replied easily enough, dark bangs bobbing about her hidden eyes as her shoulders and arms worked at the bowl, the low thuds of stone against wet stone filling the quiet creaking of the submerged dungeon like footsteps in the dark, "I heard him, right here, a few days ago; he told you to use it to line your eyes, didn't he? You, of course, did it, didn't you?"

"Yes, Circe. We get it. I'm dumb."

"Not dumb. Just mindless at times."

I scowled at her, but the woman, the creature was back to pounding her 'herbs', her arms strong beneath the silk of her sleeves, her eyes forgotten and dark beneath a blanket of smooth black. Thick lips, curved and whole, pursed together in deep concentration, the fiery shadows dancing about her lithe form, alive and warm. Her face was eternal, beautiful, even in all the icy, bleak dark; it was like staring at a painting, a divine art, careful, lines neat, colours faded with age. Eyes like granite gleamed from behind strokes of ink, beautiful and hard, waning with the deep fire. Everything seemed to be tinted with gold paint.

The world was a painting itself.

The green sludge was so bloody sickening.

A rat squealed somewhere by the door.

My bones seemed to sag towards the floor.

"Stop your scowling," Circe said casually as she kept her eyes, her all attention of the copper bowl and her pounding pedestal, her voice like trickling water, odd and strange and mysterious as usual, fire gleaming about the fringe of her hair, "It doesn't look becoming on you."

"I don't care what looks _becoming _on me."

"You should. Any woman your age would."

"I'm not any woman."

"I've noticed. Now, tell me that you're not down here in rebellion of Captain Turner again, child."

"I'm not," I grimaced slightly as I gazed down at the bowl before my crossed lap, the pool of green, of pool of cold, slimy, putrid green. My fingers wobbled about in the sludge, knobs of tanned orange skin rippling mirths of red about the filth like rocks peering out of a dark sea, the firelight dancing upon my knuckles; my fingers were still sore, the scars still raw and red, the pain still throbbing through my wounded hands. Palms still felt tight and numbing.

I don't think these _herbs _were working.

My mind felt foggy.

"Really? Then prey, tell me. Why are visiting me so late in the night? Surely you remember the last time you spent the night here?"

"Don't worry, princess. I'm not planning to stay."

"But why _are _you here?"

"I've got no where else to go," I shrugged simply enough, studying my knuckles, the thin, near-invisible veins of red that smeared through the green away from it, a yawn threatening to rip apart my lips, "So I thought to myself, 'Why not visit my good old friend, Circe?' I needed you to fix my hands anyway. They were really beginning to hurt."

"It's a few hours to dawn."

"Not like you're doing anything else."

"Why aren't you in your room though, little one?" her pounding sounded like the beat of drums, her breathing soft and quiet in the creaking of the wood and the squealing of the bloody rats, "Surely you tire from the day's adventures?"

_Adventures?_

_She called them adventures?_

_No._

_No way._

_They weren't adventures._

_Metus was an adventure._

_More like a near-death experience._

"Seeing you brightens my day, doll."

"Little one-"

"I just don't understand, Circe," with a snap, I looked up at her again, pulling my eyes from the bowl, from the swirling gunk, curls snapping in the cold, metallic air; she was as I had left her, dark curls swirling down against her neck, hand clenching hard around the pounding stone, bowl glinting like old gold, blue silk ruffling against the red sheets, eyes forgotten, downcast upon her work. Her legs, her body were still cocked to one side, bare toes wriggling at the edge of azure cloth. Curls, circlets of pure black, bobbed along her angled face.

Fire rumbled overhead in a canopy of heat.

The wood rocked beneath my feet.

My bones felt as thick as lead.

_I want to sleep._

_I really, really, really, really want to sl-_

"Don't understand what?"

"Today," I looked at her, searching her blank, downcast face, my voice stretched with tire, my sore fingers curling in the nest of slimy, cold green, "Everything that happened today."

"What _did _happen today?"

"The fog, Circe. Metus, that daemon, the fear-"

"A fear you did not feel."

"Look," I blinked at her, swallowing slightly, gazing at her pounding, serene form, like that of a goddess in a dark, dark world of silver bars and flaming ceilings, hollow _thuds _filling the air, "I understand what happened, alright? Metus told me. I know that everyone…. that everyone saw fear. Their worst fears, and I understand what that can do to a man-"

"Do you?"

"No…. but it…. It wasn't my fault."

"Does not change the fact that you _didn't _see anything. Not the worst of it, anyway."

"But how is that my fault?" I glared slightly at her, throbbing fingers brunching, my heavy, sleepy eyes focusing all attention on her slim, silent form, the wood boards creaking and moaning beneath the tips of my boots, rat's screaming in the night," I….I didn't ask _not _to see."

"And yet, if you _had _seen, as the others did, none of us would have been alive, now would we?"

"Jared doesn't see that," my voice fell quieter, my head bending down with dread, the heat creeping up my neck like a thousand fire ant, but Circe had heard me; in the still, icy gloom of the rotten dungeons, the ancient demi-goddess stopped her pounding, the thuds silencing away into the night. Cloth scratched against cloth.

Rats squealed like crying babies.

Metal bars gleamed like torrents of cold fire.

My body felt so heavy.

"Jared?"

Circe's voice, for once, had an odd tinge of surprise in it, like the jingles of bell, far away in the snowy night.

My fingers felt crummy.

Wood groaned.

"Yes. Jared."

"What happened?"

"He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, child."

"He sure seemed like it."

"Yes, but he doesn't," before me, quivering in the small bowl, shadows dancing about the surface, the green guck slanted a little, rocking away in the moaning of the ship, the salt air thick, the metal rich and rusty and putrid, "You are his sister. His twin. He can never hate you."

"Well, it's not like we were ever close-"

"How would you have reacted, little one?"

"Huh?"

"How would you have reacted to seeing all your loved ones die?"

I looked up at her again, curls trickling around me, eyes sore like wounds, my heart squeezing in on itself; she was looking at me now, head perched up through the dark, curls falling along her sharp, ebony face, eyes like rocks gazing over at me with her usual, calm interest, dead as the night around us, cold and blank. Shivers of shadow danced along her sharp nose, like fairies fleeting through the night, beautiful and transcendent, graceful and gentle. Her stone pedestal rested sloppily her copper bowl, still tucked away in her hand. Her lips were pursed together in silence.

The world smelt of burning dried grass.

The air tasted of rotten, cold metal.

My fingers were beginning to itch.

_Dying._

_People dying._

_People I loved, dying._

_Was that even a thought, a sane thought?_

_Could I even imagine it?_

_Could I even imagine-_

"I did not ask to be spared," I breathed out, my voice scratchy, my voice thin, Circe like a pale portrait, captured in time before me, my heart thudding away in my ears as I closed my mind from any wayward, scrappy image, any horrid flashes," I asked nothing."

"And yet, you received."

"And that is how your gods work? By sparing those who never ask of it, and suffering the rest?"

"Metus is not of the gods."

"He works for them," I looked at her, at her silent face, at her hard, unblinking eyes, "I heard him, Circe. He told me. He works, he b-belongs to…to someone called He-"

"Hel."

"Yes."

"Goddess of the Underworld."

"I don't know-"

"He is a daemon, little one. Hel is his mistress."

"And so, he is under their command."

"The gods do things that we can never truly understand."

"You make them sound omnipotent, like bloody supreme-"

"Well-"

"Yet they torture my friends," I felt my voice crack just slightly as I glared up at her, sore, bloody fingers slowly bunching the cold, icky green soup, the curl of a dark blonde strand straying before my right eye, the heat licking against the nape of neck, "They send this d-daemon to fill their minds with _fear_, with such torment-"

"It was your friends who chose to take this path, child. They chose to find the Fountain of Youth, despite my warnings of obstacles. No one forced them to do so."

"Jared didn't choose this. Scarlett didn't. I didn't-"

"People never choose their own destiny-"

"_I_ do," my teeth gritted together, my eyes glaring at the woman before me, at her trailing black hair, at her granite eyes that shone without thought, without emotion, my sore, fiery fingers buckling together, the green sludge sluicing cold against my tight skin as my jaw tightened in a full wound, "_I _choose my own destiny. I always have. I _chose _to follow Sparrow on that ship. I _chose _to take this so-called Balder's sword. I _chose _to follow Will and the _Flying Dutchman. _I _chose _to free you from the island, to kill that siren…and today, I _chose _to promise that monster a siren's head, in return of my friends. I _chose _to save them. Not bloody destiny."

"Yes, but it was destiny that pulled you and your brother back into the past. It was destiny that had you meet Sparrow, at that right time. It was destiny that had you find that sword, even though you knew not of its origin. It was destiny that made you meet Will, destiny that steered you to free me, to kill that siren, to save your friends-"

"There is no such thing as destiny."

"Yet it was fate that brought you here in the first place, fate that started these series of events, fate that bring us into this cell, talking dead into the night."

"I thought that this Balder started all of this. I thought _he _brought us here."

"Balder _is _your destiny," her look was serene, her face blank but there was something in her voice now, something strong, like branches swaying in the breeze, leaves rustling in the fall gale, her hard eyes gleaming with the firelight, like stars in the midnight sky, "Don't you see it, child? He _is _your future, your fate."

"What? Am I going to marry him or something?"

"Fates intertwine. They always do-ours are interlaced together, just as Will's, Jack's, Hector's, and all on the ships are connected, linked to yours. Will's and yours are especially tight…."

"So now I'm going to marry _him_?"

"Fates interlace, little one, but yours and Balder's are _one_."

I just stared at her, stared at her silent eyes, perfect cheeks, black, black curls like sprays of dark ropes. Gleams of fire danced in her eyes.

A rat's squeal cried up into the dank air.

My fingers were really beginning to itch.

_Crap._

_This was crazy._

_Destiny, fates intertwining…_

_This was all just so crazy._

_All just a pile of pure sh-_

"Destiny has weaved your treads together, child. You cannot change it, no matter what."

"Because _destiny_ has decided it?"

"Because it is fate."

"And what? The gods control fate?"

For a moment, Circe sighed, her long dark eyelashes fluttering close briefly, her ample chest heaving out slowly, her hair trickling all around her like a wondrous dark fountain. The braids along the sides of her head were tinted gold in the firelight, shadows leaping about her still form in pirouettes and spirals. Dark light, amber and gold, danced about the fur of the red covers.

Wood creaked somewhere in the dark.

The slime was really, really cold.

"You do not understand, Joey," Circe sighed, breathed, her lashes fluttering open from the long, wry exhale, the copper bowl resting comfortably in the palm of her open hand, "You do not understand at all. The world is more complicated, more intricate then you can ever imagine. There are many things in the world, in the universe, many, many things that are too complex, too convoluted to explain. The universe is not as simple as you have believed."

"Well, I never quite believed in it in the first place-"

"Fate is what controls all, little one. Fate. Not one; not you, not me, not any human, not any daemon, not any spirit, not any fey, not any other being, not even the gods can escape from it. _All _is decided by fate, all controlled. Fate is life, space, creation, earth-it is all that exists and all that do not."

"You're insane."

"It's fate that has brought you here, Joanna, fate that has led you on this path."

"You're really insane."

"It is fate, little one. Trust me. It is fate, and only you can decide where it will lead you-to your fortune, or to your doom."

"You really _are _insane, aren't you?"

"There is no other explanation for the tale of you life now, little one."

"Luck."

"Luck? You think this is luck?"

"Yes. Luck, and coincidence."

"And luck is a better explanation then destiny?"

"Duh. I probably walked past a black cat or something."

"It was not _luck _that led you to the blade, Joey."

"Yes, it was. I was just lucky enough to have met such a lovely man like Sparrow."

"Not just anyone can hold the blade of Balder, or hear his whisper in their ear-"

"I never told you that."

From her perch on the royal red cot, back straight, neck high, eyes glinting hard like rough diamonds, proud and noble, Circe rose a perfect, dark eyebrow to her hairline , letting it disappear in the strokes of black, her eyes cold and dead. Her face was lifeless, like a pale portrait, a shadowy work of art.

My own eyebrow rose.

My knuckles tightened.

"Child?"

"I said…I said I never told you about any whisper."

"You don't have to. I know."

"You know-"

"I know it was Balder who awoke you from Metus' spell. I know it was his voice that aroused you, his glow that lighted the blade and gave you strength. I know, little one. I know it was him that whispered in your ear."

There.

There it was.

A true, thick confirmation of what I had only doubted.

Balder.

Balder was the one who had talked to me.

Balder was the one who had awoken me.

Balder was the voice.

_Balder was the one that lived in my blood._

"So it _was_ Balder," my voice felt tired, my bones tired but I kept the conversation, my tongue dry as salt, my fingers cold and clammy and just plain disgusting, the fire hot at the back of my neck, "It was him. It was him, back on deck, in the mist."

"Aye."

"It was his voice."

"Aye."

"He was the one who saved me."

"Aye."

"But I thought you said he was dead?"

At this, Circe sighed again, her lips curling away, her long lashes breathing down against her high cheekbones yet again as she exhaled the sweet smell of rotting metal and wet wood. Dark curls trickled like black streams; in a single, graceful movement, the daughter of a supposed goddess twisted gently and placed the copper bowl down upon the red covers, her fingers pulling away, elegant, soft. Her sigh tickled against my ear.

Light and darkness competed against her ebony skin, gold and black, amber and ashes.

The sludge felt like rotting intestines around my fingers, wounds itchy like a persistent rash.

Wood groaned.

"No," she emphasised the word as she gazed up at me again, her granite eyes hard and dead, her jaw sharp and perfect, the shadows leaping like dancers, "I said he _died_. I never said he was dead."

"We seriously need to talk about your mental condition, sweet."

"Balder was a god, little one," her jaw was tight now, her eyes hard and cold as her gaze hardening slightly at me, her arms moving to fold neatly upon her blue lap, her shoulders wounding by just a little, "Gods can't die."

"But you said-"

"Their bodies can be broken, ruined, burned to ashes, just like ours. They can, physically, die, but souls, souls never die."

"What?"

"No matter how many times you try to kill someone, their souls were always be there, a fragment, a piece, immortal to any sort of harm. No matter the witchcraft, no matter the devilry-souls are immortal, strong, and forever alive. All souls are like that- they never die, you know. Souls cannot die."

"So…. you're saying…Balder's soul…isn't dead?"

"No, and neither is his body."

"Circe-"

"When you and I die, child, our souls will leave our bodies and depart for this world, joining the Great Spirit and becoming one with the universe. Our bodies with join the earth again, vessels of flesh and blood and ashes. When we die, our bodies die too, forever. With gods, though, it's different."

I sighed.

A rat cried out in agony.

Circe's voice was like leaves rustling in the fresh breeze.

"Their bodies may be ruined, discarded, nothing more then ashes but as the soul of the god lives, immortal as ever, growing, finding strength, it builds itself a new body. Gods can die a physical death, but their bodies are always resurrected. _They _reborn, becoming what they once were. From the ashes they come, alive, walking, breathing, just as before. They live, unlike you and me. They die, but they always come back again."

"You're not making any sense, Circe."

"That's because you never listen."

"I do!"

"No, you don't. I could explain to you all the mysteries of the world but you would be much too distracted with your simple surroundings."

"I'm not the one talking some voodoo gibberish."

"All I have said is true."

"And I'm Mary Queen of Scot."

"Balder is alive, child. Breathing alive."

"Fine. Good, then-"

"I don't think you understand," her voice rose a little as her eyes stared down at me, hard, black eyes, still and silent, her face emotionless, blank of any thought, her hands folding neatly together, her face a beautiful myriad, "You may not believe in fate, Joanna Wolfe, but it knows you, and it seeks you. Destiny is awaiting you. Balder is awaiting you, and though you see nothing of it, though you refuse to believe it, everything that has happened is nothing more then the path that leads to the ultimate end."

"Oh yeah? And what's that, doll? What's the ultimate end?"

In the whisper of the dead night, in the cold dungeons, beneath the onslaught of shivering flames, surrounded by cold, dead, gruesome metal bars and squealing, ripping darkness, Circe leaned forward, her eyes widening, her lips barely moving in the quivering abyss. Glints of fire burst through those granite stones like pale flames, leaping in the pulling, clawing darkness. My heart tasted like bitter blood.

My veins felt like fire.

My lungs felt like lead.

All was dark.

"The end of the world."

**=END OF CHAPTER=**

**Well, this was a tedious, but somehow fun chapter to write. I know it may be boring, since the plot isn't moving, but it explains some things, I hope. Besides, spoiler alert:**

**The next chapter will be the last chapter before the final scene. It's going to start off casual, and then deal with some emotional conflict near the end. By the end of the next chapter, the island that I am dying to write about, will be seen. Be warned though, dear readers, for the story is about to become even more complicated. There is going to a betrayal, utter outrage from everyone, gut-wrenching fear, a bloody battle, the reason for the painting in the attic, and more and more and more. Though it will be the final scene, it would last a few chapters-if my estimates are correct, it will be all about 7-8 chapters. Including the next one that makes it 9 chapters to go until the end of this one.**

**Of course, there will be a sequel.**

**Which means more work for me.**

**Oh, an major spoiler alert:**

**There's going to character deaths, and I have a feeling, a strong feeling, you guys will kill me for it.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading this fic and for all of you who review, thank you so much! You're my fuel! Please leave comments on my review page about the story-loopholes? Characters deficits? Hates? Loves? Am I rushing to end this?**

**Please let me know. Your opinions really matter to me.**

**Until next time!**

**XOXO**


	44. Too Many Soul Bearing Conversations

Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.

**Enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 42: Too Many Soul-Bearing Conversations.**

"Quit staring at 'im."

"I'm not staring at anyone."

"Yes, yer are. Yer starin' at de eunuch."

"Will's not an eunuch, Sparrow."

"Ah, but how do yer know fer sure, eh savvy?"

"He's a father, genius."

"No matter. He's still an eunuch."

"Sparrow-"

"Any man who gives up de chance to bed an ample luv such as yerself, Scarface, in favour of the love of a woman long lost has to be bloody eunuch. No other explanation fer it."

"Not everyone is as big a slut as you, Sparrow."

"Ah, but den what's life worth den, eh?"

I could only glare at Sparrow in reply.

Before me, the tall, tanned pirate was helming _Betty's _wheel, his fingers splayed along the wooden knots, his large black hat sitting upon his head and shielding his ink eyes. Black dreadlocks spilled down his body, along the sides of his long face, like an engulfing, dark waterfall, beads glinting like winking eyes in the trailing wind; he was amber in the glow of the setting sun, his harsh, tough skin reddened, browned even more. Smears of charcoal wet and fading with sweat, lined beneath his eyes, crinkling as he blinked, as he winked. Black strands whipped in the wind; he was still, quiet, his right hand curved along the top of the knob, his silver ring beaming in the last of the day's grace. Shadows danced about the lines of his face, aging him, gracing him, his black, black eyes staring far ahead into the horizon, the last gleam of the dying day burning his eyes like a pair of brilliant gold stars waning in a midnight sky. Thick lips, curvaceous, whole, were parted slightly as he gazed out into the setting sun, into the myriad of orange, of yellow, of shadow that played along the horizon, igniting the world afire with cold, flickering light. Sweat gleamed shiny upon his skin.

He was handsome.

As usual.

Hell, I hated him.

All around me, the world was back to normal, as normal as it could get anyway; the three ships were sailing again, side by side, white sails fluttering against sole black, like birds of black and white sailing through the amber sky, their wings alit with gold, their tails hanging loose behind. The wind was strong and sweet, beckoning their journey, and all around us, at every corner of the world, front, behind, left to the right, the sea was a golden expanse, a field of glittering diamonds, white caps like ivory toppings. There was nothing else to see, absolutely nothing at all except the fading sky, the glimmering sea and the ships that sailed silently, quickly, through the cold light; there was nothing, no land, no other ship, no building, absolutely nothing. Water surrounded us at all fronts, beautiful, soft waves, glimmering waters, hailing, sweet breeze; it was all there was, all that mattered and as I sat there, on the perch of the helm, right before the wheel, before Sparrow, staring at the beautiful world that engulfed me, comforted me, I couldn't help but love it.

What was there not to love?

There were no people, none safe the crew who were now silent on all ships, silent as death after the whole imbecile with the mist and Metus.

There were no buildings, no bloody skyscrapers piercing through the heavens, no glinting, silver towers cutting through the pale sky, like daggers stabbing through the thin, gold clouds.

There were no roads, no clogging cars throttling down cement streets, black fumes chugging out from behind, horns blaring, stabbing through the air, killing everything else.

There were no annoying sounds, no children cycling down the street with irritating bells, no cranky voices yelling over a garage sale, no arguing people, no throttling cars, no pumps groaning, no people chatting….

No noise.

None.

None safe the rolling of the ocean and the murmur of pirate talk, soft like the wind, whispering like a lullaby.

No noise.

None.

None safe the sea.

And the world.

"The sea's beautiful today."

"Aye." I kept my eyes at the world, at the streaks of gold and white that tore through the horizon, the pale light like kisses of a cold wind, the wheel groaning and moaning beneath Sparrow's weight. Sails blocked the view of the ocean to the right, oiled rigging and working men waving in the breezing, a view in their own right; there were hardly any varies of colours, barely anything besides brown, gold, white and amber, yet it was all still so beautiful, like a singer's ballad, or a poet's heart. Light danced about the wet decks as dark figures of men ran about, darting across the paling glow, silent, caught still in their own horrors, their actions slow in the languid light, their features hidden in the playing shadows…

And there he was.

Again.

William Turner.

I could barely see him-he was two ships away-but he was there, standing on his own helm, a shadow, a dream, in the beauty of the waning amber. His hands were tucked, angled at his waist, his dark, wet hair tied behind in a limp, bushy ponytail, his dark eyes were away, facing forward, facing the horizon that shone pale and beautiful, strokes of fade, his legs were apart, his shoulders stiff and hard, his lips parted….

And soon, very, very soon, Captain William Turner will find the Fountain of Youth, regain his mortality and return to his wife and son.

To civilisation.

To sanity.

To the place he truly belonged.

To his family.

Not here.

Not on the ships.

Not at sea.

Not with me.

_Not with me._

"Yer starin' at him again."

"I can't help it," I shook my head slightly as I stared at the far-away, small figure of Will, at his faded face and simple beauty in the distance, washed away in a splendour of the most brilliant, most radiant gold, "Its not like it's a choice." Beside me, standing at his own helm, strapped against the wheel, Sparrow's breathing was deep, long, like the breath of the wind, pulling against the pregnant sails.

"Aye," his voice was deep as he spoke, plain, no emotion, no usual humour, naked as it had never been before, "But yer could always just look away, no?"

The world smelt of sweet, sweet wind.

My skin felt cool, like a perfect summer day.

I sighed.

"I can't."

"Eh? Why not, luv?"

"Because…. Because every time I look away, even if its for a second, I can't help but feel that he…he's going disappear, like he was never there in the first place. If I look away, he's gone."

"Yer know dat's not true."

"It feels like it is."

Because in a way, it was.

In a few days, lesser perhaps, we would reach the Fountain of Youth.

Will will get his mortality.

He will be free.

He will be gone.

And I, miserable, pathetic I, would lose him forever.

_I will lose Will forever._

A bird screamed high up in the air, like the blaring of a horn, so crisp, so real in the summer of the fading day.

The wood burned slightly beneath me, hot through my clothes.

My heart sobbed.

_I will lose Will forever._

Sparrow sighed.

"Yer wastin' yer time on him."

"I know."

"He's an idiot."

"I know."

"And an eunuch."

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just tryin' to console yer, luv," Sparrow's voice took on his familiar humour again as I slowly leaned back on my still-sore palms upon the long, wooden perch, my eyes watching the gold-painted sails, the leaping shadows about the pale planks, the figures of men walking about in the distance like ants, the statue of William Turner like a forgotten dream, "Isn't dat what yer women like? Consoling?" My hair whipped off to the side in the frail, sweet wind; strands, golden in the light of the faded day, strayed across my vision like flickering fireflies, the red bandana strapped around my head keeping it neat, holding my sight in perfect place. Harsh, sea-tainted hair kissed against the nape of my neck.

My skin felt like silk, pampered in the childish breeze.

"Well, you're rotten at it."

"It's no more den de truth."

"What? That's he's a eunuch?"

"That's he not worth yer time."

I just sighed in return and stared ahead, at the pulling ropes, the working, quiet men, the golden world and Will, standing as he was, completely out of reach.

My legs stretched out before me along the wooden perch, the oak burning through the cloth of my pants, my bones melting down in complete idle.

Boots winked like amber eyes.

The healing scabs itched at my palms.

The breeze pulled.

He was right.

He was, of course, right.

Will was, in all rights, a waste of my time.

I don't know exactly how long I have been here-a month, two months- but ever since I had come to this god-forsaken, pagan-run, pirate-infested century…..

Ever since this bloody adventure started on that beach at Port Royal, I had spent more then half my time pining over Will, wishing over him, lamenting over him.

I dreamt of him, I thought of him, I saw him every freaking day-if he wasn't there, in my vision, he was in my head, an itch in the back of my brain, a gnawing thought.

I was always thinking about him.

Hating him.

Loving him.

Doing things for him.

Hell, all my free time has been spent on him-

And what worth was there?

I had bigger problems now, gigantic problems- Circe's insanity, her oath to me, Sparrow's annoyance, Balder's bloody sword, my predicted life-bonding marriage to this dead-or-not god….

Well.

Ok.

Maybe not marriage.

But seriously.

When someone tells you that your _destiny _is one with someone else, you kind of think that you're going to spend eternity with him.

That, or he kills me or something.

If this was all real.

Which it isn't.

Because this was all a dream, a bloody big dream conjured up by my subconscious to alert me of my impending insanity-

"My incredible intuitive sense of the female creature tells me yer are troubled."

"Sparrow, can I ask you a question?"

At his post, beside me, at the corner of my vision, dark and persistent, Sparrow shifted slightly, his dark clothes ruffling against hard wood, the beam of his silver ring paling as the day faded at the end of the world, his hair fluttering black in the wind. Silver beads chimed together as the sails above flew back, the sound of the sweet, howling gale clouding my ears in a beautiful lullaby, white and black streamers shredding across the sky as the world slowly collapsed into the eternal night. Birds flew high above in the paling sky, the end, the horizon, streaked with all the pale, the glimmering, rolling waters stretching like fields and fields of gold. Stars and deep sea blue chased from far behind.

We were sailing right into the pale sunset, the sun hidden behind the strokes of amber and white, the world abashed in a beautiful, pale gold.

A twinkle of gold, like a brilliant star, winked at me from in between the riggings of the other ships, like the cold of a reflected glass, or the flash of a radiant light, smiling through the pulling shadows of wood and setting suns.

Voices mumbled through the air, distant as the wind, soft as the world, trailing away like the sea breeze, forever forgotten, forever lost.

Will was a statue.

"Now dat depends on de questions, luv."

"What are you going to do after this?"

"After what?" His voice was low, but the humour was there, lazy and drawled.

Crisp, like he found something quite amusing.

_Asshole._

"This whole thing…. after we find the Fountain of Youth," Will was still standing there, in the distance, staring down at his crew, at the horizon, his thoughts far away, his every feature washed away in the pallor of the setting day, "Wha'cha going to do after this?"

"Yer mean after I become immortal?"

"_If _you become immortal."

"What else, luv?" he shifted slightly, his shadow long at the corner of my eye, his long, colourful beads rattling against one another in the hurricane of black like Indian wind chimes, "What else is there to do in dis world if yer could live forever?"

"Be a pirate?"

"Sailin' de sea forever."

"Forever?"

"Aye."

"Wouldn't you get bored of it?"

"Would yer?" If I had been looking at him, I would have seen him probably raise an eyebrow, but all my attention, all my bloody, wasted attention was on the solemn figure of Will, at his soft face faded away in the dying day, my fingers curling as the heat slowly left the world like a pulling tide, "Would _yer _get bored of de sea?"

"If I see too much of it-"

"De sea ain't like de rest of de world, luv. Nome. De sea's always changin', like the rolling wind; it's unpredictable, untameable, beautiful-"

"If I were to stare at the sea, every day, for the rest of fucking eternity-"

"If _yer _were to stare at de eunuch for de rest of yer life-"

"That's different," I snapped, spinning my head around with a ferocious speed, tearing my gaze away from the cold light, from the silent pirates, from the golden waters, from Will's silent form, "Will's not the sea. He's not a location, a surrounding." My eyes practically ripped away from his distant, misty form in the far gold; before me now, at the large wheel, Sparrow was grinning softly, smirking in his usual way, his twisty moustache dotted with sweat, his eyes like those of the grinning Cheshire Cat. Beads jingled together at his beard, the thick lines of black like hanging limbs, dark against his tanned throat. Firm, dark fingers groped at the golden wood, the shadows and amber playing across his features like wind among frolicking stems of grass, wavering and shivering, beautiful….

Bloody hell.

This idiot _was _handsome.

I know I've said it a thousand times.

Hell, probably a lot more.

But Sparrow….

There was something ruggedly handsome about Sparrow, something about his loony gaint, something about his twisty, mischievous beard, something about his elusive, lazy smirk, something about his rum-scented charm, something about his battle-hard hands and lustful eyes….

_That's it._

_When we get back home, I'm checking myself into an asylum._

_A criminally insane asylum._

_With no visitor permits._

_And no men._

_Absolutely and utterly no men._

"Aye, but luv is luv, is it not?"

"I'm not in love with Will."

"Aye. And yer pining over 'im, yer longful gaze-"

"It's just a crush. Nothing more."

"Yer really believe dat?"

_No._

"Yes."

"Den yer a bigger idiot den I already thought yer were, eh savvy?"

"_You're_ the idiot who wants to spend his immortality at the sea forever."

"Ah? Den what exactly are yer plannin' to do with yer eternity, Scarface, if not at de sea? Yer plannin' on spending forever as a land-lubber?"

"Who ever said I was going to become immortal?"

"Aren't yer?"

"No," I scrunched my nose, at his smirking, handsome face, at those eyes that were so, so very black, at the golden sky and pale world, "Why on earth would I want to live forever? On this rotten earth?"

"Ah, yes," his smile widened now, yellow teeth glinting in the gold as he grinned over at me with his annoying smirk, his dimples flashing, his dark eyes widening into their usual circles of wry glee, his body swaying at his still feet, "De valiant one."

"Valiant?"

"Thou de one who marches against death willingly, neither resistin' nor fightin', even when the dark fold of hands wrapped around yer throat, blindin' yer, smitin' yer, draggin' yer deep down into de depths of black sea-"

"Jack, _shut up_-"

"I'm merely complimenting on yer bravery, luv."

"Are you so scared of death that anyone accepting it is considered brave?"

"Aren't yer?"

Behind us, behind the ships, behind Sparrow's back, the dark was chasing us, the end of the day falling into the sea, creeping at our tails.

A moon, a smile so fair that it seemed gone, beamed down from the following darkness, a sliver in a growing blue.

Scarlett's crimson hair flowed like a river of blood in the pale sky, her figure alone, foggy, lost at the very back of the helm.

Pirate voices murmured through the howling wind and rocking waves, distant, faded, like memories of a dream.

My fingers curled on the cooling wood, my hair flipping and pulling and tugging in a thick, dark blonde tangle.

My scabs itched so.

All the world was gold.

"I'm not brave," I shook my head slightly as I watched Sparrow's face change, falling dramatically, so sudden that I had to blink my eyes to be sure; the glee, the wry fantasy and absent-mindedness had pulled back, shrunken to give way to something verging on confusion, his lips pressing together, his eyes narrowing together, scrunched together, nose creased in his gold-washed face. A slim, black eyebrow snaked up into his hat, away into his weathered bandana, his fingers toying with the smooth knobs of the wheel. Black dreadlocks whirled in the setting wind.

The air smelt of salt and oil, and a sweetness I couldn't identify.

The gloom was slowly setting in.

My heart beat like the rhythm of a slow waltz.

_Maybe I should go down and find Jared, try to see if he has calmed down from last night-_

"Yer aren't?"

"No."

"But yer don't fear death."

"Everyone's got to die sometime, Sparrow."

"Aye, but not me," he looked confused, puzzled and as I sat there, staring at him with a scrunched brow, the older man leaned forward upon the wheel, his rings gleaming, his beads chiming, his eyebrows squished together, tight and wounded, eyes glazed with thought, "I….Yer have de chance to live forever, luv."

"But I don't want to."

"Yer rather die?"

"Yeah."

"Don't yer fear it? Don't yer fear what comes after death?"

"You mean heaven?"

"Or hell."

"If I die, I die," I shrugged in a final reply, matching Sparrow's confused, wary look with my own folded brow, my fingers stretching, breaking the awful scabs that covered my sore palms, "Anything's got to better den staying here, on earth, rotting away for ever."

And that was that.

For awhile.

For the next five minutes, Sparrow and I delved into our own, wind-filled silence, returning to watching the world, to watching the gold give way to looming blue, to watching the men pull at lines and mop boards, to watching the solemn, gold-washed distant figure of Will-

_No._

_No more._

_No more Will._

_I shouldn't look at him._

_I shouldn't think about him._

_Not anymore._

_There were only a few days to go before the end of all of this, after all._

_A few more days before Will left my life forever._

_Only a few more days._

_So, I had to get started, didn't I?_

_I had to start forgetting him._

_And the first thing I need to do is stop looking at him every darn minute-_

"Der yer want to know what I saw?"

"What?"

"Back den, yesterday, in dat mist."

With a slow swish of heavy hair, I turned my head towards him, away from the gold, away from everything; Sparrow was as I had left him, standing at the wheel, the world darkening and bluing behind him, the gold trickling about his face, shadows reaching over bridged nose and dark, charcoal eyes. The confusion was gone from his face, wiped clean like a smooth glass; he was no longer watching me but now stared out into the impending sunset, his face calm and serene, his eyes lost far away in the flare of the dying day. His twisty, snaky moustache was a straight, black line, his face blank, his jaw long; he was thinking, thinking long and far, his eyes lost in some distant world, his very being there, but his mind so far away, disappearing away in some dream.

A dream of a dream.

Of a dream of a dream of a dream.

The gleam of the pales burned in his eyes like beautiful stars, glazed, lost, taken away into another world.

His fingers curled tightly around the wooden knobs, rings gleaming in the amber light.

The red cloth whipped at this waist, fluttering like the sails above.

The wind was sweet like rum.

My heart skipped a beat.

I cleared my throat.

"You don't have to tell me-"

"I saw meself," his voice was low but bleak, blank, devoid of any usual humour, his lips a straight line, his eyes glazed, torn far, far away, beyond the glimmering horizon-he was completely different now, a 180 degree swing, his amusement wiping clean off his face in a flash of a second, his total demeanour falling away into some dream somewhere, so totally lost, so totally gone, the golden light playing across his wayward, dreamy, handsome features," Alone, back in dem Locker again."

"Jack-"

"There was nothin' but the expanse of sand, no water, no trees, no beaches, no shoals-just de sand again, as far as the eye can see, de horizon nothin' more then a line of bleak white."

"You don't-"

"I was alone again, luv. Completely alone-it was me, de white sky, the white sand, de _Pearl_, and dem hundreds and hundreds of me. There was no voice, no other life-well, except de blasted crabs which I commandeered-"

"Crabs?"

"It's a long story."

"Why are you telling me this?" I felt my voice grow quiet, really, really quiet in the clouding, cool wind, my eyes squinting at the paling figure before me, my heartbeat quickening like the beats of drums; the darkness was approaching, the stars gathering, the darkening blue pulling over the pale sky like a blanket, emerging out of the horizon behind as if the blue sea had stretched forth and covered the sky with waters. Red hair, bloody and pure, haunting, flew behind like a passing sail, streaking across the dimming waters and sea blue sky in a ripple of gruesome crimson. The grinning moon was chasing.

_Why was Sparrow telling me this? _

_Why was he telling me about Metus' spell?_

_Everyone else has avoided me._

_Everyone else wasn't talking. _

_Jared wasn't talking._

_Will wasn't talking._

_Scarlett was a bloody ghost._

_Why was Sparrow telling me this?_

_Wasn't he affected at all?_

_Wasn't he?_

Before me, at the wheel, beneath the sky torn between the day and night, a statue in a battle of shadow and light, Sparrow moved his wayward eyes, the flaming pools slowly pulling back; he blinked, once, and then looked at me, his lips parted slightly, the fires in his eyes burning right at me. Dark, dark orbs refocused again on me, the gleam of the fading day beaming bright like pyres of fire. His smooth, orange face was completely calm, emotionless, blank with far way thoughts. His shoulders were slumped and relaxed.

Beads chimed against one another in the mess of unwashed black, like stars in a midnight sky, spinning around.

Waves crashed against wood, golden and blue waves, singing together.

The wood was cooling beneath me, like the carrying, salted breeze.

My boots glinted like winking, golden eyes.

Sails lamented above, shredding the sky.

My heart pounded in my head.

I could barely speak.

"I just thought yer should know what yer saved me from."

The wind whistled in my ear.

"Save?" my throat felt dry, coarse as I said those words, as I stared at the silent, calm man before me, his dark, dark eyes so black, so deep that one could easily get lost in them, the beads singing away in the cool breeze, "I didn't save anyone."

"Is dat what yer believe?"

"I only did what I could, and it was slow too….I should have gone into the mist earlier, woken up earlier-"

"One cannot control such dings, luv."

"Maybe…but I could have spared everyone a few minutes less of torture if-"

"Dat's yer filth-breaking brother talkin', ain't it?"

"It's the truth, all the same."

Sparrow's eyes were like midnight skies.

"Yer know what's de truth fer me, Scarface?"

My tongue felt dry.

"What?"

The wind howled.

"Yer saved me."

And with that, we stared at each other, our lips shutting, our throats silencing; his face was blank, handsome, the light fading, the day dying, the darkness approaching….

And I turned away, away from the view, away from him, and stared down at my lap, at the black pants and yellow cloth and hard, leather bodice that seemed glossy and polished in the last of the day's light. Cloth flapped and waved in the rushing cool wind, like parchment sails against a pale sky; my shadow was long, reaching, dark upon the gold-washed boards, strands of dirty blonde whipping across my vision. The edge of the bandana cut softly into my skin as I nodded my head forward, away from the world, and gazed down at my lap, at the strokes of fine light that streaked across them, at the dusty strands upon cold shoulders. My knobby knees were like mounts of black about the wooden perch.

Even my lap was amber.

Beautiful amber.

And so I sat there, staring at my lap, at the sore, scab-covered fingers at the sides, at the ruffling clothes and falling, fair strands; beside me, off to the right, there was the sound of groaning wood, Sparrow's clothes shuffling, but I didn't care.

I couldn't.

I had to think.

_After all, Sparrow could be right._

_Was he?_

_Did I really save them?_

_Save them all? _

_Balder was the one who woke me._

_It had been his blade that glowed, that gave me strength._

_It had been his voice that awoke me and steered._

_It had been him._

_Balder._

_Balder saved me, and in turn, I saved them._

_He saved us._

_Didn't he?_

_Or was I really just going mad?_

_I mean-_

There were footsteps now, and I tore myself away from my golden lap and polished leather bodice and creeping, nagging thoughts, pulling my eyes upwards again; Sparrow was walking towards me, slowly, his steps languid, swishy, gaint in its usual way. Black dreadlocks rocked away in the wind, whipping aside, beads chiming; I scrunched my brow helplessly as he approached me, stepping farther into the fading, gold light, each step heavy upon the gold wood. His eyes were bright like gleaming stars.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Can you just leave the wheel like that, unmanned?"

"I can brake it," he said simply and as he neared me, black strands flying, Captain Jack Sparrow reached up with his tanned, brown fingers and touched his hair, sliding his skin against the dark ink of his rugged mane. Fingers fidgeted near the top, in the shadow of his odd hat, at the very tip of his own red bandana; as he walked to me, Sparrow played with his hair with one hand, tugging and pulling. Sunlight spiked all over this face.

I frowned.

"What are you doing?"

As he stopped in front of me, face serious and calm, a face so completely rare on him, Sparrow pulled his hand back, away from the spiralling, clumped black, something long glinting gold among the ridges of his dark fingers; it was a chain of beads, not much unlike the others in his hair, long and abnormal, disfigured off sorts. It gleamed amber and gold and silver in the last of the day's light, bright like a jewellery, like a diamond but as Sparrow stopped in front of me and brought the beads closer me, I saw that they were nothing more then that; beads. They were off various shapes and colours, rectangles, circles and ovals, big and small, red, silver, amber, black, all weaved together in a single, long line. There were many blobs, shapes but none bigger then the size of my thumb, dangling loose, whipping in the wind as the captain held it out from the top with the tip of his gnarled fingers. Light gleamed off its shiny surfaces; there was nothing special about it, really. It was just a string of beads, joined together by some thread, simple metal and wood, dyed a mild assortment of colours; the only particularly interesting thing about it was a strange, diamond-shaped eye at the very end of it, wider and larger then the other beads. It's design was crude and raw, its sharp and narrow shape rough, as if done by simple tools. It jingled loose in the wind, its uncut edges gleaming gold, its creamy white surface like a brilliant pearl in the glow of the ending day; it was a very simple design of a narrow diamond shape in another diamond shape, the center dotted with a single, black pupil.

A simple eye, nothing more.

Except, of course, that all around it's simple design, in between the black ink lines that drew its shape, were little strange letters and pictures, hieroglyphics of some sort; a stick man, a glyph, a bird, some twisted lines….

It was all faded into the small ornament, chipped in with utter delicacy, every ounce of the white diamond covered with tiny pictures, words. They were so small, yet so defined, like needlework, running across the pearl white surface, covering its every inch in between the deep black groves and dark pupil. Odd figures and shapes danced along the black lines, soft but black, standing out against the fair like streams through thick jungles. Glints of gold kissed each line, each stroke.

It was delicate, like an artist's work, tiny dark lines like the strokes of black paint upon pale parchment, raw and clever.

Beautiful.

It was beautiful too.

"What is that?"

Sparrow didn't answer; instead, with the full force of the setting pale shining upon his face and the darkness of the night clawing at his back, the pirate reached forward and without a word, grabbed my hair on the top right, brown fingers tangling in the dirty blonde mess. His fingers were harsh and hard against my wary strands, his knuckles sidling against the edge of my cheekbone and red bandana; I gave out a cry of surprise, my eyes widening but Sparrow didn't bother at all.

Hell, he didn't care.

In a single movement, he brought the string of beads, with its odd white piece at the end, to my face and before I could even make another sound, Captain Jack Sparrow began working at the strands of my hair, using both hands, the beads caught among his fingers, his rough knuckles knocking against the edge of my bandana. Strands pulled beneath the net of the red cloth, like painful tugs, rings thick in my hair; I gave out a cry of protest but Sparrow didn't stop, his fingers working at something, weaving at something, the long train of beads hitting and hitting. His skin was razor hot against my cheeks.

"Hey!"

"Hold still, luv."

I didn't, I couldn't, not with Sparrow touching _my _hair, doing something in _my _hair, doing something to _me_….

With a final breath and a last, painful tug at my few strands of hair, Sparrow pulled away, his fingers releasing, his arms retreating back to his dark-clothed form; there, in my hair, hanging among my strands, beneath the edge of the bandana was the string of beads, as long as my hair, falling in grace with the dusty flairs. It was entwined neatly with a thick strand of dark blonde hair, the thread hidden behind the flow of odd-shaped beads, the long line of amber, red, silver and black slumped like a casual strand. It was as if part of my hair; it was now just like Sparrow's other beads, hanging among my strands, falling to my shoulders. Cool wood kissed against the edge of my cheeks.

My hand flew up to it.

"What the-what is this?"

"A gift."

"A gift?"

"Aye."

"From you? A gift from you?"

"I do that quite a lot actually, but people are always surprised."

I rolled my eyes as a funny twig flickered across his blank face, an almost comical look of slight outrage, his lips pursing, his brow folding; without another word, I pinched the string of beads between my raw and thumb and finger and began to feel it, running my skin over each type of smooth surface, across the tiny bumps and hops.

The beads pulled down against my hair, heavy, pulling strands tight beneath the bandana.

My wavering hair kissed against the edges of my fingers, cold as the breeze.

Everything seemed cool to the touch.

_What an odd thing._

As I ran my fingers along the chain of beads, thumbing softly through the cool, Sparrow watched silently, his shadow long and dark, the black chasing close behind; some of the beads were wood, as far as I could tell anyway- fine, smooth wood, shaven to a pristine likeness, as perfect as plastic could be. There were grains here and there, but it was good, small, the different shapes roughened to such perfectness. Circles were smooth along the sides.

_Whoever carved this must have been good._

_Like really good._

There were metal beads as well, but bigger, and fewer; one large one, almost the size of the diamond-shaped eye below hung near the middle, icy cold to touch, rough, uncut and engraved with tiny, tiny scratches that I could not see from this angle. Another smaller one hung at the top, but this was hollowed through, like a donut, or a ring, the metal harsh beneath my skin, the cut uneven and jagged. Each disk was thin, but heavy:

Pure metal.

Raw metal.

_Raw metal._

_Where did Sparrow get this?_

Most of the beads were wood, of course, but there were a few stones too, cool and perfect; a small oval of quartz glowed gold as I swung it into my vision, translucent, its fairness clouded and dirtied, its edges perfect with craftsmanship. Another was a pebble, small and long, the other a rectangle amber stone, absolutely radiant in last glow of the world…

And then, the eye, the strange, sharp eye with all those markings on its pearl white surface, the unreadable, black markings; it was light in between my finger and thumb, my weight pulling at the strand sharply, the surface cool beneath my skin. The etchings, the black, dozen etchings felt like the grains in wood, or the cracks in a rock; but it wasn't wood, nor was it rock-

Bone.

It felt like an animal bone.

It was light.

It was white.

It was smooth and cool.

Yes.

It had to an animal bone.

What else could it be?

Yet, how anyone could engraved such things on such a small piece of bone baffled me; the shape was small, not as long as my thumb and yet somehow, someone had managed to chip an entire fairytale into the smoothness and pure white of the small bone, engraving such detail and preciseness.

Shouldn't it have cracked?

It was so beautiful in the light though, the bones gleaming like a faint star, the black diamond and pupil like hollows of deep, deep abyss and the engravings, the hieroglyphics, entrancing, engaging; there was a story here, I could tell, a story which involved weaving, twisted black lines, crude stick mans, spirals and twirls and dancing dark patterns, tiny and perfect, etching across the bone, making it a masterpiece in its every right. Glimmers of gold shone along its fine edges.

An artwork indeed.

A beautiful artwork.

The wind howled in my ears.

"What is this?" my voice was soft as I stared at the curious eye, at the fine lines and smooth edges, the cold sea breeze trying to pull it farther down along with the rest of my hair, the horizon an ink black in the far behind. My sore thumb caressed the flat bone, enjoying the ridges that rode against my skin like Braille; before me, standing with a long, dark shadow and hair whipping back into the darkening sky, Sparrow reached forward again in the fading light and with his rough, hardened fingers, touched the cool bone. His thumb sidled over mine as he gently held the edge of the sharp eye as well, coarse skin running over my nail, rough, spiky knuckles knocking against my mine. Hot skin melted against my own, and for a moment, I looked up at him, ignoring the wind that pulled at my hair, ignoring the swing of the now-hanging-curved beads against my cheek. Wood rocked beneath us with the singing sea.

Sparrow was far away.

"It's the medicine man's eye," his voice was quiet as he slowly stroked the smooth bone, running his thumb along the edges, his skin coarse against my own, his eyes lost away again, glazed and far-away as they stared at the glimmer of gold fade from the cool bone, "Me mother gave it to me when I was a wee lad."

_Mother._

He was daydreaming, off again; he was staring at the bone in our fingers, but not, as if seeing something that wasn't really there, as if lost somewhere in the back of his forgotten dreams. Embers glowed bright in his lost black pools.

The light was crumbling into a deeper orange, the gold dying, the darkness taking over.

Shadows and light fought bitterly about his face, leaping and charging and stabbing with all might.

His breath was long and deep.

_Mother._

"What's it for?"

My hair fluttered against my bare shoulders.

My heart was like a beating drum.

The scabs were still itchy.

Sparrow smelt of stale rum.

"See here?" he breathed deep, pressing harder against the stone with his thumb and then slanting it more in my direction, his black dreadlocks whipping at the edge of my vision, his shadowy fingers as hot as fire, "See de outer rhombus, the big diamond? It's showing de four corners of de earth, de four winds, the four tribes of humankind. It represents de universe, and its four domains."

"Universe?"

"Aye, luv. De universe. De inner diamond, the smaller one here, shows de inner world, de world dat is hard to see, de world only the wisest can truly understand. It is said to represent the spirit."

I kept my voice quiet, soft, blank of emotions, as if walking on ground scattered with millions and millions of sharp glass shards.

Gibbs shouted in the near distance.

Shadows filled the world.

"And de dot? In the center?"

"Dat," he slid his thumb closer to the center, to the dark, deep dot that dipped into the smooth bone, his skin scratching against mine, "Dat is de eye, de all knowing, all powerful eye. It is de one who watches de world, watches de men and de spirit, de one who knows all…. dis is de medicine man's eye, Scarface. It means fer wisdom and awareness, and gives it's wearer de ability to see all dat dere is to see. It belonged to me mother since she was young, a little younger den yer even. Her people gave it to her de day she was taken away by me father."

"Her people?"

"Aye," he nodded once, his eyes lost, his expression blank, his mind caught away in whirlwind of a memory, his body but a talking, emotionless shell, his thumb stroking against my own, "De Indians. Me mother was given dis by her own father when she was to become a woman. It has been in me family for generations now."

I cocked an eyebrow helplessly, freezing my thumb on the large sharp bone, staring upwards at the handsome, far-away face that loomed above me, his eyes lost, shadows triumphing over light all about his sharp, tanned face.

The fire burned like pyres drifting in a black sea, lost and wayward, floating away into the distance.

Red hair streaked against the far horizon like a banner of blood.

The moon's grin was brightening, a sliver, a white smile in the bluing sky.

The wind kissed against my skin.

His thumb was like a streak of fire.

"Indian…" I let my voice trail, staring up at him, at those eyes, at those lost, lonely fires, caught away in their own, tempest wind, "You're part Indian?"

His voice was like a dream.

"Aye."

Aye.

_Aye._

_Of course._

_That made sense._

_That made perfect sense._

_His midnight black hair, his harsh, tanned skin, his sharp jaw line, his long, angular nose, his dark, dark, dark eyes…._

_Of course._

_Part Indian._

_Sparrow was part Indian._

_Why haven't I seen this before?_

_Seriously?_

_He's obviously not hundred percent Caucasian, what with his eyes and hair and sharp features…._

…_._

_That's it._

_When I get back home, I have to see a psychiatrist about my lack of observational skills._

"Sparrow," I said as softly as I could, looking up at his wayward, forgotten eyes, at the lips that parted slightly in faraway thoughts, at the flares that beamed ever so bright, "Jack…I can't take this."

The wind howled like a banshee.

At my voice, Sparrow blinked; once, twice, and then he looked at me again, right at me, his eyes clearing up, the fog dissipating, his neck creasing out into awareness again; he saw me again, me and only me, not some imagination, not some thought, me, my solemn, quiet figure dark in the reflection of the eternal depths of his black eyes. His chest heaved in a large lungful of fresh sea air.

The bone slid cool, smooth patterns beneath my skin.

My heart felt like a hammer.

A voice cried.

"Yes, yer can."

"No, I can't. It belonged to your mother, to your family-"

"And now, I give it to yer, Scarface. "

And with that, with that solemn, bare voice and vacant face, Sparrow took in another deep breath of sea-filled air, his chest moving in slowly and then, in single, languid movement, the man pulled his hot fingers away from the bone piece strapped to the bead chain in my hair and reached for my face. I barely saw it coming, barely thought a thing; his fingers moved up through the salty, windy air and before I knew it, before I blinked, Sparrow's thumb was kissing against the side of my jaw. He was touching my face, his fingers curled softly beneath my chin, the rough bristles brushing hard against my skin. His thumb was sweaty, hot; I paused, my mind freezing as Captain Jack Sparrow softly cupped my jaw, his fingers to my face.

Just like what my father used to do.

_Just like my father._

I could barely breathe.

For a moment, Sparrow just stared at me, his eyes dark like sweeping night, his lips parted, his face quiet; his breath was long, rum-scented, hot, his thumb sliding over my jaw line, his fingers soft against my chin. Fires burned like beautiful pyres.

My heart thudded loud in my head, like an endless drum.

My throat felt dry.

_Just like my father._

His voice was a whisper in the shadows.

"It's yers now, luv. May it guide yer more den it ever did fer me."

And with that, Sparrow and I turned towards the fading horizon, watching, together, as the sun died and the world vanished away into the never-ending abyss.

* * *

_OK, Joey._

_Relax._

_Just relax._

_It's no big deal._

_No big deal at all._

_You're just walking into your room, carrying a plate of dried beans and those horrid salted beef, handing a meal over to your brother._

_No big deal._

_None at all._

_You're just bringing Jared his meal._

_Nothing to it, really._

_Kindness, in fact._

_Relax. _

_It'll be fine._

_Nothing can go wrong._

_Nothing, except that Jared might still be in his sorry mood and might decide to throw the plate right in my face as a thank you note…._

I blew out, through my mouth, heaving out my lungs in exasperation; before me, the wooden door was dark with the gloom of the night, the grains and lines black against the dark blue, whispery shadows of the rocking world wavering upon its dim surface. Wood groaned and creaked like the bones of an old woman, lamenting, moaning, hangers rocking; all around me was dark, pitch dark, the night falling through the gaps between the wooden boards and washing the lower decks in whispery darkness. Shadows fleeted like pale phantoms, spirits darting among moulded pillars and along algae-covered corridors. The ceiling seeped with streams of trembling pale, the faded glow of the stars high above shivering and trembling as the ship pitched gently about the rolling, black waters. Wet wood smelt like thick salt.

The wood was unsteady beneath my feet.

Dried, round beans toppled about the metal plate, sliding against the foul slicks of salted beef.

Beamers groaned above.

The world was dark.

_Ok._

_Ok, Joey._

_Just relax._

_Calm down._

_Stop thinking._

_Just…._

_Just reach forward._

_Reach forward, grab the doorknob and push._

_Push the door open, step inside and hand Jared the plate._

_No big deal._

_None at all._

_In and out, in 10 seconds._

_Lesser, if you run._

_Just breathe._

_Relax._

_Relax, Joey._

_It's just Jared._

But it wasn't of course.

After all, was my brother still angry from last night?

I had taken all efforts, all mathematically calculated efforts to avoid him all day, to give him the breathing space he needed.

The space he needed to think.

And sort out his feelings.

It was enough, wasn't it?

One whole day to himself.

One whole day to figure everything day.

One whole day to realize that it wasn't, not really, my fault.

Wasn't it enough?

_Of all the brothers in the world, really…._

I took in another breath, another breath of wood-salt air, the world swaying beneath my feet, my eyes shutting close as I gathered the strength, the courage, the downright speed in thick breaths; at the right side of my hair, flowing like a curl beneath my tight bandana, Sparrow's beads swung gently in the soft rocking, cool wood, stone and metal tapping against the very edge of my cheeks, the large, sharp bone piece hanging almost to my shoulders, heavy and pulling against my strands, it's black-chipped and arted surface glowing softly in the night of the corridors with a pale cast. It looked like an actual eye in the dark, its black lines lurid, its white bone surface smooth as ice and its thousands and thousands of little, black hieroglyphics glinting pale, shivering. Metal and wood clinked softly in my ear, like a passing whisper.

The corridor to the left was an eternal night, completely dark, the doors disappearing into a deep, black hole with absolutely no end.

The indoor courtyard was empty, the pillars like statues of man past, looming the darkness, watching me in silence.

Footsteps groaned above, unsettling the dust, creaking against the beamers, filling the world with loud, solemn thuds.

I shivered.

I didn't have to do this tonight, you know.

I could wait until tomorrow morning, give Jared more time to cool off.

I could ask Will for some other sleeping arrangements on the ship, away from Jared.

I could wait until he has had a good night's rest-

_Fuck it._

And with that, I took in a breath, grabbed the doorknob with my free hand, twisted it, and pushed through, the familiar wooden door swinging forth, wood creaking like a crying tree; as the large, heavy door pushed open, the crack of air gave in and a burst of light fell through, a slim light, a dim light, the pale flame of a single lamp, it's yellow glow springing up onto me, onto the quiet darkness as the door swung back and the room opened up….

And hell.

Of all the things I had imagined, of all the torturous, numerous options, images that I had fantasised about, the possibilities I could see when I entered my room again….

I did _not _see this coming.

There, standing in the middle of the dark room, before the small round table, the pale, single light surrounding like a glowing halo and bleak curtains shredding through the night was a sight I never thought I would ever see in a million years, an image that had never crossed my mind.

Jared.

Jared and Scarlett.

Jared and Scarlett, embracing.

And kissing.

_Eww._

There were just there, two figures in the dark, the weak, beautiful flare of the single flame casting around them, illuminating them like a pair of angels in a Michelangelo painting, the light bright behind them; gold and red hair were ablaze in the frail light, tussled, messy, the pale glimmer shining from behind them, singling them out in the windy dark. Shadows leaped about as wood rocked on in the continuous cycle of the sea, of the world, skin like faded porcelain, like old parchment in the dead night; Jared's head was a topple of pale gold, bright in the light of the single flames, the spikes of his hair like points of gold blades sticking out from his head, high towards the ceiling. Dark shadows traced along his face, along his closed eyes, along his working muscles, along his passioned features….

And there, in his arms, buddle tight in his huge embrace, hands around her slim waist was Scarlett, locked to his lips, her ruby hair spilling over her shoulders in a beautiful cascade of hot, iron red, like spilling blood, streaming down her dainty shoulders and fragile back in a wayward, sweaty twist. Light trembled all over her skin, shadows laughing, darkness calling; she was kissing him, sinking away into his arms, her hands clutching at his dark shirt, her body pressed hard against his own. Her eyes were closed as well, her matted, red hair streaking across her pale cheeks, her little nose against his own. Her jaw worked smoothly, just as his did, porcelain against leather, shadows creeping over everything; moans, soft, passionate moans filled the silence of the room as the pair before me kissed one another with bloody fervour, arms tight, hands squeezing, eyes closed, bodies trapped in a whole new whole world of their own. Clothes ruffled against one another like the wind.

Sighs whispered through the night.

Shadows leaped about in dances.

Hands groped.

"Gross."

At my single word, my single, not-too-loud word, the pair before me tore apart, jumping back from one another, leaping through the pale dark of the shivering flame; shadows danced, spiralled as Jared and Scarlett pulled away from each other, their hands drawing back, his lips parting. Dark blonde and red strands flicked in the gleam of the golden light as the two bodies separated, throwing back, the shivering candle upon the wooden table springing into full view between them. The gap widened instantly; in a matter of a second, a non-existence space had grown into at least a meter between the two, like a gulf of light, darkness swallowing them at either side of the room. Cloth shuffled at the sudden movement.

Ragged breathing filled the room, hot and loud, bouncing off the dark walls.

Pale banners, curtains, streaked through the air, the wind pushing against them, cold and unbearing.

Wood wobbled beneath our feet, like the very sea itself.

Scarlett was gasping.

_Awkward…._

Jared was the first to speak.

"Joey," his breath was harsh, panting, and as he spoke, my twin brother stepped forward, pulling out of darkness's leeching hands, the shivering pale of the candlelight trembling along the side of his gasping face, "What are you doing here?"

Scarlett was silent in the dark, hiding, her breath was like an approaching storm.

Footsteps mumbled overhead.

_Major awkward…._

"I brought you your dinner," I cleared my throat easily enough, eyes shifting from the Jared's light-limed face and Scarlett's shadowy figure, their hot, bothered breathing loud in my ears, pale curtains flapping in the cool, dark wind, "At least, what looks like it."

"Dinner?"

"Yes. I thought…I thought you might be hungry."

Jared just stared at me in reply, his heaving chest sidelined with a gleam of pale light, his blue eyes wide like orbs of sea-blue; they were dark in the gloom of room, dark like the night itself, cheeks shivering, lips parted in still excitement. His shoulders were squared, tensed, his arms hanging on the side, fingers clenched; in the shivering light of the single candle, at the right side of the room, near his bed, Jared was panting, his body still acting with adrenaline, his blue eyes so very dark in the setting world. Outside, beyond the long window, stars blinked in the sky, winking, little dots of silver, flapping in the wind.

Wood rocked beneath, like a cradle, the swoosh of waves soft like a lullaby.

Crisps beans wobbled on the metal plate.

Voices murmured above.

I breathed.

_Well._

_This was awkward._

_Extremely awkward._

_Maybe I should just go ahead and leave; give the two some privacy or something._

_Or should I?_

_Did the want privacy?_

_Well, of course they did, Joey._

_They were sucking the life out of each other just a few moments ago._

_Unless, of course, they-_

"We weren't doing anything," Scarlett's voice was rapid, like the flash of a blade through the air, sharp, breathy, her voice reaching high up into the wooden ceiling, her face hidden away in the shadows of the room," We were just talking."

"Talking?" I couldn't help it; I had heard the desperation in Scarlett's voice, the defensiveness, but I just couldn't help the soft smile, the blatant smirk that crept along my lips as I held onto the metal plate, the swinging bone eye shivering against my strands, "You were talking?"

"Yes."

Her voice was a squeak.

"Hell, if that's talking, then I want to have a nice long conversation with Hugh Dancy."

"Quit it, Joe," Jared rumbled as I finished my sentence with a grin, a helpless grin, my eyes searching at the demure, shadowy figure of the petite Scarlett-she was hiding, hiding in the darkness, as if ashamed to show her face, the swish of her leather overall cracking in the silence of the rocking room, light catching glimpses of pale, pale skin. The ends of stray red hair glowed bright ruby in the soft halo of the candle's light, like flairs of fire, embers in the dark; eyes, bright, olive eyes, stared out of the darkness, right at me, blinking frantically, shivering with panic.

Hell.

The girl was acting like she just committed murder or something.

Wood groaned.

Wind slapped.

I grinned.

"Stop smiling."

"I can't help it," I shrugged a little and turned away from Scarlett's frightened eyes, looking across the room to stare over at the dark pools of my brother's, Jared's face still limed with the golden glow, shadow engulfing half his body, light salvaging the other, "She's adorable."

"Adorable?"

"Yes. Doesn't she look like a mouse to you?"

In the darkness, in the windy, cool darkness and the frail halo of the pale candle flame, waves crashing in the distance, Jared turned away from me and stared across the room, his dark eyes shifting, his face falling slowly away into the swaying shadows; for a moment, he watched Scarlett, watching her hidden, darkened form, and then, with a deep, thick sigh, strode across the room. Sparrow's beads jingled about my hair in the cool wind, wood and metal clinking in my ear as my brother walked briskly through the shivering gloom and reached towards Scarlett, a shadow in the darkness. He whispered something, she whispered back, and for the longest moment, I stood there, feeling like an idiot, watching the two of them converse together in the near-darkness, their voices hushed and quiet. Foul salted beef stank like rotten meat.

Fuck.

Perhaps it _was_ rotten.

Albert's hollow eyes stared at me from the lighted table.

For a good five minutes, the two of them whispered together, their voices slithering through the night, their breaths shallow, their words lost until, at long last, in the dim of the candle, they moved; with slow, passive steps, Jared and Scarlett moved into the light, into the halo of shivering yellow, their silhouettes dark against the candle light, their features disappearing into the darkness. Red and gold hair beamed like crowns upon their heads, their loose white sleeves a translucent pale, their leather overalls thick as the dark.

Their breaths were hard and long.

Their hands were intertwined.

_Well._

_This should be interesting._

Jared's voice was a thick sigh.

"Joey," he said my name cautiously, rolling it over his tongue, his long, huge arm extending all the way down beside's Scarlett's thin one, their hands joined together in the dark like a large meaty pie, Scarlett's eyes large and wide, "We have something important to tell you."

"We have too many soul-bearing conversations in this room."

"Joey," he breathed and in the dark, his eyes were orbs of black, pure, untainted black, the shadows tearing away across his features, Scarlett's eyes like pools of endless green, the pale light bright and beautiful behind them, "I told her."

_Oh?_

_I _so _don't know where this conversation is going._

"I told her I love her."

"And I told him that I love him too," Scarlett squeaked in the dark, like a freaking mouse; in my hands, the metal plate was cool, the blobs of dried beans and streaks of sickly beef heavy upon my wrist, weighing me down, the sleeves of yellow fluttering softly as the creeping, pushing dark wind pushed through the window, howling slightly, wavering the candle flame, casting wary, dancing, leaping, frightful shadows all over the room. White curtains shredded through the dark, like claws ripping through the night, beautiful and transcendent, flapping away. Everything smelt of spicy wood and faint salt.

And horrid, salted beef.

Dark and green eyes stared at me quietly in the dark, two figures, hands joined, haloed in a perfect, shivering light.

Wood groaned.

"I see."

"I see? That's all you're going to say?"

"Well, what else do you expect me to say?" I shrugged my shoulders a little, the grin dimming at my lips but the humour, the somewhat, misplaced humour of the whole situation intriguing me no ends. Silver stars winked outside like gleaming diamonds of far.

The wind tasted sweet.

"A 'congratulations' would be nice."

"Why? Is it good news?"

With a loud groan, Jared reached upward and face-palmed his face, fingers splayed across his shadowy nose and bridged brow, his dark eyes closing as he sighed out a thick, heavy breath. His head nodded forward in exasperation; beside him, Scarlett watched with wide, wide emerald eyes, her red hair like a mane of bright flames down her back, half her small, pretty face limned with the wavering, shivering light of the single candle. High cheekbones blossomed a pale red in the gold light, like soft, dark roses.

The string of beads pulled at my curls.

"You don't…. don't get it, Joey," Jared breathed, dragging his large, tanned fingers down from his face, skin sliding over skin, dark eyes fluttering open as his chest heaved in and out, "We're in love."

"Brilliant."

"I'm going to marry her."

At this, I raised a single eyebrow with a sharp perk, hitting against the edge of the bandana, muscles working; marry?

_Marry?_

"You're kidding, right?"

At the light, hands together, Jared and Scarlett exchanged a brief look, their features hidden away in the glimmering shadows, hairs flicking in bright, transcendent colours. Their silhouettes gleamed against the frail, whipping light, as they turned to each other, eyes meeting in the darkness, hands joined together, tight, one. Their shadows leaped all the way to my feet, long and dark, shredding through the dark floorboards.

Curtains flapped.

Footsteps muffled.

My heart pounded.

_Marry?_

"No," Jared turned back to me, his hoarse voice slightly surprised, his darkened eyes widening in the gloom, leaping larger as he stared at me with something that looked vaguely like alarm, caught off guard with my words, "No, we're not. We're serious. We're going to be married." Beside him, Scarlett's jade eyes refocused on me, blinking rapidly in the dark, quivering, shivering even, her lips pursed together in thick silence.

Their hands were so tight together.

_Marry?_

"Marry?" my voice trembled slightly, my eyes darting from both Jared and Scarlett, my head beginning to spin, my heart slamming loud at the new fact, the new proposed future, at the sudden possibility, "_Marry_?"

"Yes, Joey. _Marry_. You know, the whole white, ceremonial-"

"Are you crazy?"

"I don't see the problem," Scarlett's voice was soft, like a creeping whisper through the dark, her eyes darting over to Jared as the latter's shoulders tensed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, my tongue turning bitter, "Is there something-"

"You _just _met!" I felt my brow scrunched as my voice hit a higher octave, my other hand closing over the metal plate as well to balance it properly, my voice peaking louder, my chest heaving out, "What has it been? A month? Two?"

"I understand that it seems unlikely-"

"Unlikely? You guys are _nuts_!"

"I love her, Joey," Jared snapped through the air, his voice hoarse, harsher, thicker, his dark eyes narrowing in the gleaming shadows, his breath sharp, "I love her more then I have ever loved anyone. Isn't that enough?"

"No…that's not enough. I mean, you guys _barely _know each other!"

"I know enough."

"Enough to marry her? To spend the rest of your life with her? Forever?"

"Yes."

I groaned.

This was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

He knew nothing about her.

She knew nothing about him.

They knew nothing.

Barely anything.

Did she know about all his ex-girlfriends?

Did he know about all her little secrets?

Favourite food, religion, favourite book, favourite music…

Did she like to dance?

Did he have proper eating manners?

Did she like sports of any kind?

Did he even like reading?

Did she-

God.

God.

This was insane.

Absolutely, positively insane.

How could they be in love?

They knew _nothing _about each other.

_Nothing._

He was an 18-year-old American jock born in the 1990s.

She was a 16-year-old English Lady born in the 1700s.

They were in love.

_And mad._

_So completely, utterly, right off mad._

"Look," I breathed in, taking in the salty air, blinking my eyes slowly, breathing against the dark as I tried to sort out my thoughts, the mad spinning that was gyrating all about my skull, my heart beating like an endless drum, their figures solemn and quiet in the frail, quivering light, "I get it, alright? You're in love."

"Madly," Scarlett spoke softly and then exchanged a brief look with Jared, a look lost in the darkness of the room, a look I was more then grateful not to ever have to see, "We're madly in love."

My smile was as painful as the drumming of my heart.

"Ah. Lovely."

"I know what you're thinking, Joanna," her musical voice trailed through the dark as she turned back to me, her red hair flickering like flashes of blood, green eyes quivering like fresh leaves beneath the onslaught of raindrops, my brother's long shadow kissing against the edge of my boots, "You think we're mad. You think we're both crazy fools."

"I don't know what gave you that idea."

"And perhaps we are. Perhaps we _are _mad but-"

"You're in love."

"Yes."

"Thought so."

"Do you think I planned this?" her eyes narrowed in the dark slightly, green eyes bright, hair a blood red, her pale skin luminescent in the dark, "Do you think I ever planned any of this?"

"Which part? Being captured by pirates or falling in love?"

"I love your brother, Joanna. And he loves me."

"Alright," I nodded, staring warily at the pair of eyes that watched me in complete concentration, their figures like mirages in the dark, the shadows leaping about the wooden walls and soft covers like fairies through a wild garden, "You're in love. I get it…but by God, does that mean you have to get _married_?"

"Isn't that what people in love do?"

"NO!" I almost threw the plate in my hands, my voice rising with each second-this was ridiculous, so fucking ridiculous, so fucking crazy, "No…when people fall in love, they don't just get _married._ They just don't w-walk off into some fairy tale life and get a house and a bunch of kids…you don't _skip_!"

"Skip what?"

"Dating! Or courting, as you would call it, Red," My eyes were widening, the wind cool and sweet against my skin, tasting like fragrant clouds and far-away rains, the wood pitching up and down beneath me, "You don't…y-you have to date first, go out for dinner, take strolls in the park, swoon at the sight of the flowers, have your first kiss under the moon, make-out at the movies, go to prom together-"

"Why would I want to do-"

"Because that's the way it works! You don't…you don't just fall in love within the spend of two months and decide there and there that you're going to get married! You…You just don't! _People don't just get married!_"

"But we love each other," Jared cut in, voice hoarse, hard, defensive, his broad shoulders rigid in the shivering light, his dark eyes gleaming with the pale of the wayward candle flame, "None of that matters."

"You won't be saying that 10 years from now, when you both starting hating each other."

"That won't ever happen."

I wanted to hit them.

I _really _wanted to hit them.

Why were they such idiots?

Couldn't they see?

Couldn't they see how horrid this could all become?

_How catastrophic?_

Footsteps crunched overhead.

The sea moaned below.

My heart screamed.

"Listen-"

"No, you listen," Jared gritted his teeth, his voice forceful, strong as he took a step forward in the darkness, his feet moving through the halo of light, his arm dragging Scarlett's forward along with his, his eyes narrowing into mere, shadowy slits, "Yesterday was a mess. A horrible mess…I saw things I never thought I would ever see, things that h-hurt me more then I ever could. The spell _showed_ me something, something so massive, so important…. so fuck if you think you can change our minds."

"What the hell are you even talking about?"

"The mist," he was a step ahead of Scarlett, his shoulders rigid and stern, his eyes lost in the darkness of his face but then he turned his head, down towards Scarlett by his side, his nose and firm chin silhouetted against the faint glow of the shivering candle, "I saw….during the vision….Scarlett…I saw her dying, and the emotions, the _feelings_…"

He grew quiet and for a moment, Jared and Scarlett stared at each other again, their profile limned against the wispy light, their eyes staring, their lips still. Hands were interlocked together, tight, inseparable; they just stared, silent, no words passing in between, their eyes locked away together in some far-off dream.

A dream that did not involve me.

_It's like I'm staring at a picture, an outsider, looking inside through fogged glass._

_It's like I'm not even here._

My heart stung.

"Hello?"

"You told me."

"Told you what?"

"You told me to tell her, to tell Scarlett how I felt about her," he looked towards me again, tearing his gaze away from the woman beside him, his voice soft, lost, trapped away in a forgotten world, eyes burning like glowing embers in the sneaky dark, "You advised me so…and I didn't listen at first. I thought….I thought that it would past, a simple crush…but what I saw…."

"The spell?"

"Yes. The spell changed everything, Joey. _Everything_. I _saw_ her die, in my arms…and I knew, I knew that I couldn't live without her. Not for one second."

"So you decided to propose to her?"

"It was impromptu," he smiled then, a soft smile, his eyes falling back down towards Scarlett, hands tight together, the two figures like angles in halo of shivering pale light, "I didn't plan…I spent all of last night and today thinking about it and then, tonight-"

"I came to find him," she was smiling too now, her red lips pulling back into a beautiful, demure smile, her voice like the soft lullaby of the sea below, shaky fire light leaping across her pale skin, shadows dancing, laughing, her green eyes lost somewhere as she stared up at him, "I was looking for you but I found him here instead and then, all of a sudden, everything came spilling out."

They were smiling at each other, like sick puppies, eyes meeting across the short breadth, hands intertwined, their faces dark and shadowy in the gloom of the room; with a soft voice, Scarlett spoke again, her lips pulled away into the sweetest smile, all of her attention lost on the man before her.

On my brother.

_Great._

_This is all just great._

"I too saw such horrors, Joanna, during the curse, the mist….I didn't wish to see, but it made everything _so _clear."

"We realised the truth."

"We could die, any second-"

"In each other's arms-"

"And I don't want to die, not being able to love him-"

"Not being to hold her-"

"Be with you-"

"Love you-"

"Spend my life with you-"

"Grow old with you-"

"Die-"

"If you guys keep talking like some love-sick, twisted couple, I swear, I'm going to murder you."

"We love each other," Jared snapped his head around, fast, his voice loud, separating each word as he emphasised them, his eyes narrowing in the dark, the smile falling off his face as quickly as the shadows leaped about them, "We're going to marry, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"I don't want to stop it, Jared. I'm just asking you to _think_."

"I have thought. Hard."

"Obviously not hard enough-"

"Why can't you just be happy for us? Like a normal sister?"

"Because I'm not a normal sister, Jared. I'm a _good _sister."

"A good sister wouldn't be a kill joy on something like this."

"A good sister wouldn't want you to make a mistake," my wrists, my fingers were sore from carrying the plate for so long, the scabs itching, but I didn't care enough to let it go; before me, in the shivering dark, Jared's nose was flaring, his dark eyes wide, his breathing ragged as he glared at me out from the shaky halo of pale light. Beside him, Scarlett was quiet, gripping to his hand, her green eyes staring at me in large, wide blinks.

The air was so very sweet.

Voices rumbled above.

The sea groaned.

"Mistake? You think we are a mistake?"

His voice was deathly quiet, still, his chest heaving in and out.

My heart was like a stab.

"No, I-"

"Because I don't care what you think if that's what you-"

"Jared, she's 16!"

"That's unimportant."

"Unimportant? Really?"

His nod was curt, harsh, cold.

My head was spinning.

"Really."

A scoff, a sarcastic, mild scoff escaped my lips as my sore fingers clutched hard against the metal plate, my heart pounding like a large gong.

_This is insane._

_This is so, so insane._

"Oh? Probably as unimportant as the fact that _you _are from the 21st century, and _she's _from the 18th century, making her, actually, about 300 years old-"

"That's doesn't matter-"

"We'll be going home, Jared," there was a desperation in my voice, a wild desperation as I glared over at my brother, at his tight jaw and cold eyes, trying to tell him, to change his mind, to pull him back into the realms of sanity, "Soon…tomorrow, the day after, next week…I don't know, but after we help these idiots get the Fountain of Youth, I'll convince Circe, beg her, to help us find Balder and find a way home so that-"

"I'll not be coming with you."

For a moment, it felt like the whole world had frozen, the sounds ceasing, my mind numbing, my throat squeezing away into a tight constrict. Blood stopped pumping, and for a second, all I do was stand there and stare at my brother, my mouth dry and dead, my lungs squeezing shut.

My heart completely froze.

_What_?

"What?"

"I'm staying," He took a deep breath, his hand tight in Scarlett's, his face washed away in the gloom of the shifting, wary shadows, "I'm staying here, with Scarlett."

Scarlett's eyes were like cat's, bright and ever so beautiful.

My tongue felt so incredibly dry.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am, Joe."

"You're the one who said that this wasn't our world, that we don't belong here-"

"I know."

"You said Scarlett doesn't change anything."

"I was wrong."

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe at all.

My ears were buzzing, humming, loud and clear, like an insect's thrum, pounding through my skull.

My blood felt was surging around my skin again, running, screaming, rushing through my veins like geysers and geysers of molten iron, burning like bloody fire.

My mind was a whirl of distorted confusion.

_Insane._

_This was so insane._

_This was so, so bloody insane._

"You're the one who always wanted to go home, Jared. Not me.

"I know, but I changed my mind, Joe."

"Why? Because of her?"

"I'm going to marry her-"

"Do you realize how insane you sound right now? You want to _stay_, here, in the 18th century and marry some prat that you just met-"

"I love her-"

"So?" my voice lost itself, my throat crunching like sawdust, my heart pumping away, beating, never-ending, like gunshots in the night, stabbing through my body, "So what if you love her? We have _lives_, Jared, _lives _back home, back in the future. We have college, Grandma-

"And nothing more then a life half lived-face it, Joe. There's nothing left for us back home."

"What do you mean nothing? I have my friends, my truck…do you have any idea how worried Grandma and Uncle Justin are right now? Without me there, Reid probably already got himself killed! Jasper-"

"That's _your _life, Joe," Jared's voice was steely, quiet, his lips in a thick, straight line, his arm brushing against the very edge of Scarlett's fiery hair, shadows leaping about his face, eyes squinted away in the circle of pale light, "Not mine. _I've_ got nothing-"

"You've got me! And Grandma, and Uncle Justin, and Bradley-"

"I'm staying, Joe-"

"We don't belong here, Jared!" I was screaming now, my blood rushing, my eyes pumping, my heart slamming against my ribcage like a large gushing tidal wave against a hard, iron dam, "This isn't our home, this isn't where we belong! I mean…we were born three hundred years in the future, Jared! Three hundred years! What…W-What if we screw up the time-space conti-shit, or we are already fucking it-"

"I don't care-"

"YOU WON'T BE SAYING THAT WHEN WE POOF INTO THIN AIR-"

"I'm staying, Joey!" he was barking, his voice harsh, loud, strong, his shoulders squaring away, his mouth gaping in fury, his eyes snapping in the shivering dark, Scarlett shrinking away into the shadows beside him, "I don't care if you don't want me too, I don't care if the _world _doesn't want me to-I'm staying, here, with Scarlett. I'm marrying her, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her. Here. In the past. No matter what. I'm staying here, Joey, and you are more the welcome to go on back home without me!"

_Insane._

_This was insane._

_This was so, so bloody insane._

The scabs of my palms were breaking again.

"You're mad."

"I'm in love."

"You're really mad."

"I'm _not _changing my mind-"

"You can't just walk away from an entire life, Jared, from _everyone_-"

"Who, Joe? Who is there? Grandma? Uncle Justin? The guys?" His chest was heaving, his breath ragged, his nose flared, his hair a brilliant shock of gold in the quivering candle light, his hands tucked tightly with the woman beside him, his eyes like eternal pools of dark in the bloody night, "There's no one, Joe. _No one._ No dad, no Johnny…No one. There's nothing for us. Nothing at all."

"Jared, please-"

"LAND-HO!"

A yell, a loud, crisp yell cut me off in mid-sentence, harsh in the sweet wind, calling from up above; it was so startling, so alarming that my hand instantly flew down to the sword by my side, my sore, scabby fingers gripping the cool, gold hilt, my shoulders tensing into full attention. My arms went rigid, and my spine snapped upright, my head knocking upwards towards the shadowy dark ceiling. Cool metal burned against the broken skin.

"LAND-HO!"

At the other end of the room, in the soft halo of the candle, pale light, Scarlett and Jared snapped their heads up as well, red and dark gold flickering in the eminescent light; dust, foul, thick dust wafted through the wooden darkness as the feet above, the invisible feet, suddenly surged, quickening, paying heed to the rough call in the bitter-sweet wind. Other voices called through, thick and wild, men yelling to one another, pirates swinging awake from their hammocks and crashing to the floor in complete alertness. Curses rang through the air, thick, vile curses, as life thundered above, beamers creaking like the bones of an aged tree. Footsteps boomed like pattering thunder.

"LAND-HO!"

My fingers coiled around the cool hilt.

The bone eye trembled by my chin.

My heart thundered.

Jared's voice was as smooth as ice.

"We're here."

"Brilliant."

**So that's it for now…I have to say that I didn't like to do this chapter simply because I'm more interested in getting to the final scene which is, of course, the next chapter onwards. However, the next few chapters might take longer to come out here as I have to work out some ticks here and there and I need to landscape my final scene. Besides, my school has started and so….**

**I'm going to do my best to finish this story soon, and end it with a bang. Of course the sequel will happen soon but not for a while…I will need a break, people. **

**On another note, 99 reviews! WOW! I would like to thank all the people who put review this story and helped me improve it. Thanks so much guys and I will work extra hard to keep improving the story! Please keep reviewing this story and please keep reading!**

**One last thing: do you guys like Scarlett and Jared together? Tell me what you think!**

**That's it for now, folks! Look out for the next one!**

**XOXO**


	45. And So It Begins

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters except my OCs such as Joey, Jared, Scarlett, Circe, Lestrade, pirate no. 7…. **

**THE END IS NIGH!**

…**..**

**Ok.**

**That was a bit lame.**

**Anyway, enjoy this one!  
**

**Chapter 43: And So It Begins**

You would think that the legendary island of Boinca, the throne of the Fountain of Youth, the mystical land where the wayward Sequence of the Arawaks had gone missing, would be one of the dreams, a wild, intangible place, full of strange, hooting animals, colourful plants and soaring skies the colours of deep, unturned purple.

You would think, that after everything that had happened, after everything we had gone through, Boinca, our destination, would be some remarkable gem in the middle of the ocean, the waves crashing clear and pure against white sand, green tree tops singing in the wind and flowers, beautiful, bright wild flowers blooming about the roots and colouring the world in a myriad of wondrous shades.

You would think, from all the legends and stories and myths, from all the old wives' tales, that there would be something magical about the island of the Fountain of Youth, something mysterious and dream-like.

Something wondrous.

Just a little.

But in the dark, in the looming night of pre-dawn, of the gentle black waves and cool ocean wind, of the soft, whispering voices and the trudging, tired footsteps, of the blobs of pale candle light all about, there was nothing.

Nothing except a misshapen large mass, sitting idly in the waters, quiet and silent, nearly invisible before a sparkled banner of beaming, twinkling stars and soft, whispering night.

An island consumed by the darkness of the world.

A simple, ordinary island.

A yawn tore through my body.

"It's too quiet," Will said simply enough, his voice warm yet strained in my ear, the flap of his black sleeve flattering against my arm; beside me, standing at the bow of the _Flying Dutchman_, a mere hand's width away, Captain William Turner was staring out into the darkness, a gold, dull spyglass glued to his eye, his harsh, tanned knuckles rigging out over the gold in whispering, fleety shadows. Dark curls fluttered against the sleek metal, hushing in the cool sea wind, hushing against his cheek; the man was nothing more then a shadow beside me, the glow of a nearby lamp painting him in soft, golden shadows, the ends of this loose dark curls beaming with the soft fragrance of the mute starlight. His hair was tied loose behind him, the array of luscious curls gliding against the smooth of his jaw, like a ship sailing across soft, beautiful waters. His eyes were closed, the spyglass trained over one of them, his lips pursed beneath the cool metal, the red of his shirt a bloody black in the fall of the ending night….

He smelt like the sea.

Below us, below the bow of the ship, the sea rushed softly, crashing against the hard wood and in the distance, against jagged rocks, trickling like a soft ballad.

Stars winked in bright silver, bright against the sky, aiding the forgotten, pale moon in the liquid black night.

Voices murmured in the quiet, softly, beautifully, like a hazy dream.

The wind purred.

I yawned again.

"What do expect? Flaming meteorites?"

"Something like that," his voice was monotous, blank, as he glared out through his spyglass, the shivers of curls trembling along his smooth, orange face, his heat beside me deliciously and seductively warm; behind us, beyond the deck of the ghost ship, footsteps creaked against the wet, rotting wood as the undead pirates shuffled about at their post, antsy, quiet as their captain stared outward into the pale darkness with his trusty gold spyglass. Sails, white and pale but dark in the twinkling night, streaked through the sky, flapping in the cold wind, pounding in my ear like the winter's lash.

Waves winked pale silver in the whispering night.

The wind howled like banshees, cold as ice.

Wood creaked.

The island was still.

Barbossa's voice rang through and thick in the sweet air.

"Something like that?" my voice was tired, as tired as I was, sagging, low, sinking away into some pothole in the back of my mind, my eyes heavy below the whipping of the frail strands, "Seriously?"

"Well, I expected something more."

"Something more then a piece of sand floating about in the darkness?"

"Aye."

"Too bad, then."

"It just doesn't seem right, Joey," he pulled away the spyglass from his face, fingers retreating the long, gold metal in a smooth pull, his dark, dark eyes creasing open towards the real world yet again, the tailcoat of his black jacket fluttering back in the wind, "Does any of this seem right?"

"Says the man whose heart is beating away in a chest."

"I mean the island."

"So we're back to it being too quiet," another yawn, a long, loud one, shredded through me again, pulling my scabby, sore fingers up to cover my mouth as my shoulders heaved up in the effort; before me, the sea was silent, the world was silent, the disfigured, lost figure of Boinca floating amidst the mass of twinkling black like a stranded ship, lost to the current of the sea. Stars beat high above like a pounding heart, a moon a frail smile in the midnight sky….

But it wasn't midnight.

No.

Not midnight.

Far from that.

_I need to sleep._

_I really need to sleep._

_I really, really, really, really, really need to-_

"I'm not waitin' anymore, Turner," Barbossa's voice spat through the air, like a slap of hot, boiling water, prickling the hairs on the back of my neck as the axe crashed through the cracking wood without so much as warning, "I'm goin' now, with or without yer." His voice was like a sudden stab, fast, furious, completely out of nowhere; wheeling through the mild darkness, beyond the flickering lamp lights and shadowy figures of still pirates, I turned around to see the looming, furious figure of Captain Hector Barbossa, crossing the plank between his ship and Will's with fast steps, boots crunching against the wobbly wood, a pale, whipping shadow. His steps were furious, his strides long; pale, whispy hair flicked in the wind as he thundered over the edge of the ghost ship and crashed down onto the deck with firm, large feet, his large, black hat bobbing above his grey head. His breathing was ragged, as torn as the waves below, his boots loud like gunshots; he was moving quickly, raggedly, storming over towards Will and I, his coat flapping behind him like the wings of a bat. Yellow eyes, sharp and white, glared out from the whispering darkness.

Another yawn.

"Just give it a moment, Barbossa," Will's voice was smooth, calm as the older pirate stopped before us, at the brow, his whispy grey beard trailing in the wind, the soft flickering glow of a lamp streaking his face with pulling shadows; beneath the onslaught of thick, icy yellow eyes, Barbossa's lips were curled away in a frown of disdain, his tough skin like leather in the wavering candle flare, his bulbous nose casting a large, black shadow across his shallow cheek. Blue plume fluttered dark and lost above his black hat, his silver buttons blinking in the black of his coat; hands, thick, gnarled hands went to his hip as the Captain of _The Black Pearl_ frowned down at us, his face twisted away in frustration, his eyes cast in the shivering, pale light.

Black, dead monkey eyes stared out of the darkness beneath his hat.

Voices whispered in the far away night.

My shoulders felt strained.

_I need a blanket._

_And a massage._

_I need a blanket, a massage, a cup of-_

"Moment?" Barbossa's voice was a spat, his lips downturned, his yellow eyes leaping about with churning, thick emotions, the grey of his beard streaking through the windy darkness, "It's been _hours_. _Hours_, boy! Me men are gettin' suspicious, an' if I keep ordering dem to keep their pie holes shut, de more dey'll be wantin' to know. An' I can't have dat, yer here?"

"They don't know about de-"

"No, dey don't, lass," his yellow eyes, like a cat's, like a predator's darted down towards me, his voice like the crash of wood against wood, wild and vile, thick with frustration and contempt, "What kind of man do yer think I'll be by tellin' me crew dat dat piece of slab over there be the home of the Fountain of Youth?" He said the last bit much more quietly, his harsh voice dropping down several octaves but the anger no more the different, his tone still wet and raspy, still terribly tensed. His shoulders were squared away into a tight, tight line.

Above, the stars watched in silence, beautiful, alive, singing through the night in a wondrous cascade of black and silver.

Waves rushed below, soft like a lullaby, crashing against wood and rock, water against water.

Jared's voice called from far.

My bones felt as heavy as lead.

_I need to sleep._

_I really, really need to sleep._

Will sighed like the wind itself.

"So, technically, they don't know that they are all just one step away from an immortal life?" I kept my voice low as well but I turned away, away from Barbossa's watchful, yellow eyes and Little Jack's black ones and towards the black mass of the island again, at the slight tilts of starlight along far-away trees and moon-lit waves crashing against liquid black shores. The wind howled against my face as I pivoted back, back towards the front of the ship, towards Boinca; I was so exhausted, so bloody exhausted yet here I was, standing on deck late in the night, staring out at a promise of a life I didn't even want, watching, waiting, listening as the world spun around me.

I was tired, but here I was, dead in the night, staring out at immortality.

At fucking immortality.

Immortality.

_Immortality._

_Hell._

_That's the whole root of the problem, wasn't it?_

_That was the whole reason why I was here, in the middle of the night, tired as hell, sleepy as hell, struggling to keep awake amidst shuffling noise._

_That was the whole reason why I was here, in the middle of the dark night, in the dark ocean, standing among a bunch of pirates._

_That was the whole reason why I was here, standing before the Fountain of Youth, beneath the laughing stars and grinning moon._

_That was the whole reason why I was here, wasn't it?_

_Immortality._

_Fucking immortality._

_Fucking, suicidal, cu-_

"Nome," Barbossa's voice was like a timber of a falling tree, branches and leaves banging down against solid earth with mind-numbing, distorting crash, "and I'll be wantin' to keep it dat way."

"We don't know what's out there, Barbossa-"

"I'm not goin' to have a mutiny on me hands, boy," Barbossa barked, his voice faded behind me, but strong, strong and vile against Will's calm tenor, the trail of his black coat flapping at the edge of my vision, the soft murmur of pirate talk whispering away in the tantalizing wind, the blob of land dark and obsolete in the endless black, "We go now-"

"Circe told us there were _two _obstacles, Barbossa, two-"

"Aye, it's probably on the island."

"And you want to go charging onto it, in the middle of the night?"

"Yer want to wait here?"

"At morn, perhaps-"

"De men will have us hung up by our toes by den-"

"That's just exaggerated-"

"Lad, if yer remember, I mutinied Sparrow meself….dis men are edgy, uncertained-"

"It's too dangerous-"

"Look," Barbossa heaved out a thick, tired sigh, like the throwing of a sunken log, exasperation screaming through the soft night air as I stared out ahead, at the white-caped black, at the looming, silver-tinted island, at the watching stars above, "I'm going, Turner. Me and Jack are headin' out _now_, down to de island-me crew will stay here with yer and man the ship. Pintel's getting the longboat ready now, and Hatfort's gettin' de supplies packed in case we need to camp out there-now seeing that ye yerself can't come out there with us, I suggest yer father could-"

"I'll go," I said simply enough, swirling back around through the darkness, turning away from the silent world, the silent black; Sparrow's beads chimed about in my hair as I turned back towards the two quietly arguing pirates, their silent figures trembling with the flickering of the nearly lamp, their background a myriad of soft, silver stars, whispering, pulling sails and shadowy pirates, shuffling at their posts, carrying frail candles. Their eyes were like beaming stars.

The wood rocked like a lulling cradle.

The wind whistled like a merry fiddler.

My bones felt like lead.

"What?"

"I'll go," I stifled yet another yawn, squinting slightly, scabs itching, mind numb with exhaustion as I stared at the shadowy figures of the two captains, the red of the bandana pressing down against the top of my curls, "I'm tired as hell…but I don't mind."

"_Of course _you don't mind," Will's voice was bitter, tight as his dark, dark eyes, stars in the black night glared right at me, his dark curls wavering about his sharp face, shadows fleeting pale gold along the ridge of his nose and furrowed brow, the silver of the rapier dancing along his hip as the sweet, night wind laughed, "You want to go-no, you _need _to go. You're addicted to danger, like a leech."

"I-I-I…I-I...I…No, I'm not!"

"You are too."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are."

"Am not!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

"NO, YOU M-"

"I, fer one, would take her company over yer father's any day."

"Joey isn't a company," he was hissing, his voice low, dangerous, his limp ponytail whipping in the silver-tainted dark as he twisted his glare back towards Barbossa, the shifting, muffled pirates whispering in the background, candlelight trembling, sails lingering, stars peeking, wood creaking, "And I'm not going to send her out there-"

"I don't see what's the big deal-"

"There's something out there, Hector," his voice dropped, low, and though it was softer now, though his face sleeked in and out of the deep shadows and frail starlight, I could hear the rasp in it, the raw, twisted rasp, "Circe _said _that we were to meet two obstacles, and the mist was only one of them-"

"As I much am lookin' forward to goin' ashore with Sparrow and Bootstrap-"

"Suck it up, Barbossa. I'm _not _sending Joey with you."

"We'll take Circe," I moaned through yet another yawn as my scabby, thick hand flew over my tearing lips, the breeze pulling at my kept, long hair, Sparrow's beads and bone eye trembling against my cheek like a wind chime, "Without her manacles, of course."

"No."

"She can witchy-watchy her way through-"

"And she can see what lies ahead, perhaps," Barbossa interjected as his fray, fray grey beard whipped about in the cool night, waves crashing like soft, far-away thunders, voices murmuring like winds, his yellow eyes staring straight at Will from beneath the black, black hat, "Aye…. She could help. It'll be a good idea if she comes with us-"

"Besides, I like her-"

"No."

"Look, if you are so paranoid, I'll handcuff myself to Sparrow or something- though I will really, really hate that…"

"Why must you do this, Joey?" he snapped, coarse, wild, and for a moment, my own lips twisted away, twisted into thick, thick scowl, my brow frowning, my fingers curling, the waves rolling and churning and crashing below in an endless roar, "Why must you go? Barbossa, Sparrow and my father are more then capable of going on that island and finding the Fountain with-"

"And Circe-"

"_Stay _here, you idiot-"

"I want to-"

"I'm _ordering _you-"

"Will, I won't die," for some reason, my scabby, sore fingers reached upward past the cool of the breeze and the sweet, feinted air and tugged at the sleek beads in my hair, at the trail of polished wood and steel and the flat, engraved bone piece at the end, my lips curving into a full frown, "Besides, I'm dying to get off this ship-"

"You are not going, Joey."

"I _am _going," I gritted my teeth them, thumb running over the tiny little engravings in the bone, fingers squeezing the flat bone between my fingers, my frown deepening into the blanket of the night with each second, Will's eyes like dark maws in his flickering, shadowy face, "I'll take Circe, and find this fucking elixir-"

"It's too dangerous."

"Like I said, I have Circe, and Barbossa here-"

"You haven't slept a wink all night."

"I'll manage."

"We don't know what's out there-"

"I'll give you a full report once I get back."

"What the _hell _is the matter with you?"

"What the hell is the matter with _you_?" the waves sang, crashed, like thunderheads rumbling at the wrong side of gravity, silver stars raining down upon us like a wild and beautiful world, my weariness tearing through my body like a giant maw, "I am just as capable of going down there as anyone-"

"No, you're not."

"Will-"

"Joey-"

"_I _killed a siren, Will, and also, conveniently, happened to have been the only one who was awake in the mist, and thus _saving all your asses_-"

"You're bringing that up now?"

"If that doesn't prove anything, then I don't know what will."

That shut him up, and for a moment, he was quiet, his dark eyes watching me from the abyss of the world with agitation, the waver of the candle flame shivering about his lined jaw, the loose, wild curls sweeping along the sides of his hardened face like palms whispering in the dead of a stranded beach. His black coat flapped dark in the night, his rapier glowing bright silver in the sterling of the starlight, his slender shoulders broad and hard in the twinkling black. The golden medallion winked dimly at his cut-throat chest, like a winking star; beside him, Barbossa was quiet too, having watched our exchange without a single word, a gnarled, wrinkled hand reaching up through the trembling shadows and stroking his beady-eyed, invisible monkey. Blue plume fluttered in the wind.

Pirate voices muttered in the wind, soft like the breeze, churning like the waves.

Sails howled above, streaking through the pre-dawn sky like claws tearing through an abyss, pale white like shadows of ghost playing in the wind.

Waves roared like a charging wind, crashing and breaking and burning, thunders booming from below.

Wood creaked like old bones.

Will just stared.

And stared.

And stared.

_And stared, and stared and stared and stared and stared and stared…_

And I stared back.

We stared at each other, at the shadows of each other, at the shadows that flickered across our faces, at the eyes that hid from the world; I was tired, sleepy, agitated, cranky, still ticked-off about the whole Jared-Scarlett mess….

And yet…

And yet….

I couldn't look away.

No.

Not even for one second.

Not even for one insane second.

_Here I am, standing at the threshold of immortality, at the porch of ultimate freedom and eternal life…_

_And I can't even look away._

_I can't look away from Will._

His eyes were like fires, smouldering embers in the pit of black, bright and beautiful, luring, delicious, flames burning like torching, violent pyres.

His face was as beautiful as a portrait, elegant and perfect in every way, a masterpiece, a grand design, a bloody miracle.

My heart screamed with agony.

_I love him._

_God, I love him._

_I love him but he could never-_

All of a sudden, in the quiet of the world, in the soft howling of pale sails and the crashing of black waters and the whispers of tired men and lost souls, Will took a step forward; through the darkness he prodded without a sound until at long last, he grabbed my face with both of his hands and drew me close like a blanket. My mind completely shut up as his rough, rope-hardened skin crashed against my cheeks, his palms cupping quickly over my chin, his fingers spreading out along my skin. My heart froze and my blood seeped dry as he pulled me close, his black jacket fluttering against my body as my boots gave away and I fell towards him, my eyes frozen awake, my mind numb to any thought, his fingers burning hot and brilliant and beautiful against my cheeks-

And then, he kissed me, right there, right on the deck, in the darkness, in the world, in the silence, in the breath, his lips like sweet dew, tongue like wondrous liquorice, his hand strong and warm like fire upon my skin, our bodies banging against one another, his sea-salted heat consuming me entirely, our beings fusing into one….

And just like that, within a blink of an eye, he pulled away, tearing our embrace, our union, our strength with so much force; it had only been seconds, mere seconds but as he pulled back, our breaths held, our lips on fire, my lungs squeezing in pure adrenaline and excitement. His fingers felt so amazingly hot on my cheeks, like fire, like molten fire, our breaths mingling together at the mere inch distance, his as sweet and beautiful as the sea; I couldn't breathe, not even a breath as we held each other in the dark, so close together, our lips almost touching again, my entire body trembling beneath his touch. My heart screamed like a beating drum.

_I love him._

_I love you._

_I love you, Will._

_God, I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

Barbossa snorted.

His eyes were like stars above me, looking into my eyes, into my soul, his breath so hot and beautiful against my lips, his chest heaving against my own, pressing against my breasts; his fingers were in my hair, and our foreheads were together, our breaths together, our eyes meeting and fusing together, bonding forevermore…

And there, in the world of raining stars and crashing waves and singing wind and sweet air, Captain William Turner leaned in even more and whispered against my trembling lips, his breath hot, his chest panging against my own, his hands pulling me in, keeping me safe forever more. His eyes were the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

His voice was a dream.

"Come back to me."

**888888888888**

There was only black.

Quiet black.

There was no sound, none safe the quiet sloshing of the ink waves, the churning of dark waters, the wood creaking beneath our feet, the oars cutting into the black, _drip, drop._

There was no sound, none safe the hushes of the wind, the ruffling of leather, the crunching of metal, cold boots, and in the far distance, in the darkness beyond, in the endless beyond, waves, ink black waves, crashing against rock, like screams of millions, _crash, crash._

There was no sound, none safe the breath of our bodies, the hot bearing of each gasp, our bones creaking, our brains pounding, our hearts hammering, _boom, bang._

There was no sound.

None.

None at all.

Not even a whisper.

_Drip, drop._

_Drip, drop._

_Drip, drop._

"Is it near?" I whispered through the night, my voice hoarse, my words lost, my heart pounding through my head; beside me, off to the right, the sea was quiet, black, an endless expanse of white-capped waves, kissing against the oiled wood, churning and rumbling and rolling into the murky, reaching, fading black….

And nothing.

Nothing but that.

Nothing but the sea.

The black sea, and the soft silver of the stars and the grinning moon.

Nothing but that.

Nothing but the sea.

And nothing, after that.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

_Nothing but-_

"Don't hold de flame o'er de waters, child," Barbossa's voice rattled in the dark, like the pulling of the rigging, or the cracking of wood, his voice as startling as shock of lightning in a cloudless dark world, "Yer'll wake de dead ones." His voice was hoarse but soft, far away, muffled in the darkness as if held back, smothered back by a gag; without a protest, without even a sense of sarcasm, I drew back my arms, reining the large, long torch of fire back away from the waters. Hot flames sliced through the air overhead and light bounced about the solemn waves as my arms pulled the light in again, the scabby fingers clutching tight to the wood, my heart hammering in my chest. Arm muscles whined as I shifted the knob of the long wood back onto my knee, the fire roaring above, licking in a pit of heat; it was our light, our only light in the darkness of the falling world…

And I held it.

I held our only light.

_We're all going to die._

_We're all going to fucking die._

Beneath me, beneath us, the boat rocked on the silent waves like a buoy, lost and alone, a solid art in a middle of an endless ocean of black, wood creaking like torn bones; my boots were still upon the hollow, dark in the flaming light, but below, below the soles of those metal suits, below the planks and rusted nails, I could feel the waves, the soft sloshing of the dark waters, of the endless dark waters….

Despite myself, I yawned.

I could still feel Will's touch.

"Hold de light steady, child," Barbossa's voice was like the scrap of iron against iron, chilling, rough, a whisper in the soft night, "I can't see anythin' with all yer shaking." Oars plopped into seem-less waters, dripping, dropping; he was dark before me, sitting right in the middle of our small, wooden boat, his arms moving up and down, steering the long, dark oars on either side, dipping deep into the surging black. The blue plume was dark at the top of his hat, his shoulders squared, his face hidden as he stared straight ahead, into the black, into the endless black, into the calling, pulling, dreading, foul black. He barely moved, a shadow in the dark, his wispy grey hair like tendrils of soot, fingers, creeping through the abyss; up above, balancing on my knee, the round of flames rose high and strong in a cast of trembling gold, flickering through the darkness, a light in a world that did not know it. Shadows danced about us, the dark winning over light, the gold of the fire shaky and shivering and frightened of the black that gnawed and clawed at all sides, slowly devouring us; beyond, beyond our light, beyond the dark, the stars were fading away, the light seeping into dark, blinking into the shivering night.

The black whispered all around, like the gnawing wind, no start in sight, no end in view.

The fire sizzled above like spitting ambers, hot but weak, fluttering in the gasping breeze.

Sparrow's beads chimed at my ear.

I shivered.

_Idiot._

_That was what I was; an idiot._

_A big, giant idiot._

_A big, giant fucking idiot._

_Maybe Will was right, after all._

_Maybe I _am _addicted to danger…_

_Am I?_

_It would make sense, wouldn't it?_

_Here I am, sitting in the middle of an abyss, on a boat, surrounded by dark, deep waters, accompanied by three crazy people, heading straight towards a fabled dark island of eternal life, with the very possibility of running into some monster, daemon, siren, spirit…._

_When I could be back there, on the ships, sprawled out on the bed, sleeping the breath out of me, tucked under the warm covers, forgotten to every-_

_No._

_No._

_Jared would be there._

_And Scarlett._

_Jared and Scarlett._

_They would both be there, in the room, on the deck, wherever- they would be there, and the very sight of them, together, in love, being with each other, sacrificing everything for each other, even if it was the dumbest, stupidest…_

_No._

_No._

_No Jared._

_No Scarlett._

_No Jared and Scarlett._

_Not out here._

_Not out in the ocean._

_No._

_No._

_It was better out here._

_Definitely better._

_Absolutely, definitely-_

"I must thank you for inviting me on this trip," Circe's voice was a purr, like a soft echo in the encroaching darkness, in the eternal night, in the knocking waves, "I would have asked the Captain himself if you hadn't already invited me along." The oars stirred through the darkness, rising and falling like a heaving chest, in complete unison, blue plum fluttering dark in the shadows of the quivering flames above; beside me, Circe sat like a statue, her figure dark in the shivering of the frail light, shadows leaping about her still form like a mirage of dark and amber. Her silk skirt shivered against the edge of my pants, her bare feet naked and cold beside my own booted ones; she was just sitting there, silent, her eyes dark and forgotten, her face hidden, her black tresses whipping against my own bare shoulders in the fall of the sea breeze. Her breath was soft in my ear, like a whisper, like a dream, and as I turned to her, from beneath the soft of the light, from among the sloshing black waves and eternal night, her eyes were cast straight ahead, beyond Barbossa's shoulders, beyond the dark that seemed to have no end. Fragments of soft firelight trembled across her ebony face, whispers of light, tendrils of light.

Waves roared in the distance, crashing against rocks that were invisible to all but the stars that dimmed above.

Wood creaked beneath weathered feet, black waves clawing at the sides.

Her voice was like the rain of angels.

"Trip?" I snorted despite myself, my fingers tight around the wooden knob, the large, long stick wobbling about on my knee, the soft, shivering flames swashing through the dark, streaking the black word in tails of bright amber, "You call this a trip?" My scabs still felt raw; I told myself not to look but the water was always there, slightly bright in my light but dark nevertheless, an expanse of deep, of the unknown, surrounding us like a giant maw. White caps, a pale silver in the fading starlight, surged through the black, disappearing away into the gloom, the world a mosaic of trembling ember shadows, pale silver and deep, thick, pathless black-

What if it was down there?

What if it was now?

What if the second obstacle, the one Circe predicted, the one Will was so worried about, was in the waters around us right now?

What if there was a _monster__**, **_or some other bloody createan-

"To what is to come, little one, shall be a mountain to this little adventure."

"I don't want to decipher your riddles, Circe-what about the second obstacle, though? Didn't you say there was going to be two obstacles? I mean, if Metus was one of them-"

"Aye, he was."

"Then the second-"

"It is here."

"Not 'here here' ri-"

"No, little one," her eyes were staring straight, unmoving, unblinking, her skin dark as the night around, tendrils of light whispering across her face, trembling like a fluttering heart, "But soon, yes, and I fear no one is going to like a single bit about it."

"Ah yes, because Metus was just _so_ lovable…"

"Sarcasm never got anyone anywhere, child."

"No, but it sure makes life a little more fun-"

"Quiet chatting, luv, and bring de fire over," Sparrow's voice cut me through our conversation like a knife, the water sloshing against the wooden sides, the black world silent as death; in front of me, in front of us all, at the very front of the small dinghy, at the wooden bow, Sparrow sat silently, staring out into the ink black, quiet, his face hidden away in the soft fair of the fading stars. His back was lined, his shoulders firmed and in the quiet of the world, in the quiet of the lapping waves and the roaring ahead, Captain Jack Sparrow was utterly still, watching the darkness before him like a game that watches out for its hunter. His dark hat was oblong on his head, soft, black dreadlocks breezing into the surrounding night; in my hair, below the tight bandana, the chime of beads trembled along the strands, kissing against the edge of my jaw, the flat bone piece weighing against my skin. Yellow sleeves bristled against the hard wood of the torch.

My stomach felt twisted, wrenched, wrung dry.

My bare shoulders were cold, icy, trembling beneath the shadowy light and sea breeze.

My throat was dry, coarse like sand.

Will's kiss still burned on my lips.

"Luv-"

"Coming, coming," I grunted, and with a wayward glance at the silent, darkened form of the demi-goddess, I moved at my seat; my knees unfolded slowly as I rose the giant, long stick off my knee, pulling it high and to my body for added strength. It was heavy, after all, and the flame could easily burn the top of my head if I lowered it too much-beneath me, the boat groaned as my weight pressed down onto those metal boots again, my knees groaning as I uncreased them. Wood wobbled and shook as the black waves kicked and gnawed and in the silence of the world, I gingerly stood up and began to move. My legs felt like lead as I slowly pawed forward, stepping carefully, algae crunching beneath metal, the flame flickering high above, subdued by the frail breeze. My toes were frozen, like little blocks of ice; it was perilous journey, waltzing through the wooden boards, crossing bare feet, pale silk and transvering over one of Barbossa's wooden arms. Oars kept their pace as I trudged forward slowly, moving languidly, hands clutching to the light, my breath caught in my chest; the whole, the whole blasted time, the wood quaked and shivered, the entire dinghy moving up and down even more, my knees threatening to give way, the waters calling in anticipation-

_What if I fall?_

_Would they come after me?_

_Would they swim for me, just like Jared?_

_Or would they ride me off as a nuisance and leave me to die?_

_What if I fall?_

_Would I drown, in these waters?_

_Or were there sharks, waiting beneath the surface, hiding in the dark, dying to tear me limb from limb?_

_Were there any sharks waiting for me-_

_Or the sirens._

_Were the two sirens here?_

_Were they here already, waiting to enact their revenge?_

_Had they followed me all the way from Circe's island and now waited for me in the shadows, predators urging to feast upon my flesh-_

With a loud sigh, I dropped down just beside Sparrow, upon the wooden board with as little strength as possible; my knees moaned in satisfaction as I fell back down to safety, the torch burning bright above my head, my fingers numb and cold. Dark-clad legs folded to accustom to the narrow front of the small, shaky boat; beside me, Sparrow was just sitting quietly in the dark, his face blank, the darkness leeching over his features, hiding them. Black dreadlocks, thick and foul, brushed against the tip of my bare shoulders as I settled down beside him, his black sleeve camouflaging him into the darkness; the light brought him to life, the colour seeping back into him, the shadows of leaping fire and the reflection of ember-casted waves dancing upon his hard skin and sharp nose. Silver rings glinted at his hands like bright stars.

The stars were fading overhead, as if being wiped away, soft and slowly.

Black wind hummed in the night.

Waves roared ahead.

_Maybe Will was right._

_Maybe I should never have come-what was I even doing here anyway?_

_What was I doing here?_

_It's dark._

_Bloody dark._

_And the waters were too quiet._

_And the stars were fading._

_And the island was near._

_The island of the Fountain Of Youth._

_Boinca._

_The obstacle._

_The second obstacle._

_The last obstacle; the sirens, a witch, a freaking tsunami-_

"Hold de light out, luv," Sparrow said simply enough, his voice drawn, tired, stretched like butter over bread; with the chime of silver beads and the hit of flat, cold bone against my chilled shoulders, my fingers cold and numb and chilled, I snapped around to the man beside me, to his hidden face and dark eyes. He was just sitting there, blending perfectly into the darkness, his black dreadlocks hitting against my cold shoulders, his beads dancing about in the cold wind like wind chimes; around us, the waves were hitting, knocking, bobbing us up and down as they crashed ahead in some unseeable shore, black as the night, sweet as the wind. Flames flickered high above like the dying stars.

Wood groaned and creaked like old bones.

My stomach rolled.

"What?" I don't know why but I whispered, clutching to the torch, fingers cold and dead; the world was black, black as death, and the light seemed to be the only hope in the entire abyss. Knees felt weak against rocking wood.

Shadows played about hardened skin.

"Hold it out front, towards de bow."

Despite myself, I did as he said, and leaned forward with the torch, angling the long, hard wood and leaning with my knees, pressing against the wet wood; light caught the water, frail, orange light, like burning embers, glowing deep in the faint waters. Black ink, white capped with frail stars, shivered with pale gold as the fire licked overhead, bright in the black, casting over the icy gleam-all there was was the black, the pressing, suffocating black, the waves gleaming faint orange as they stretched away into the darkness. The wind was sweet like rum, a howl, rocking the wood beneath, like a baby's cradle. Beads whispered in my hair.

Waves roared like a thunder, somewhere in the distance.

"Do yer see it?"

"See what?"

"De shore."

No, I couldn't see it-there was just waves, orange-licked waves and darkness, stretching all the way as far as the eye can see, nothing but black and wind and dark, dark waters-

There was a bump then, a large, hard bump, and the light nearly slipped out of my hands, the fire slashing before my eyes; water, cold, icy black waters suddenly crashed against my jutting elbow, a thick, orange-tinted wave clawing against me, the cold like biting fangs-and then, we were falling, falling through the night, my stomach flying, my throat gone. The small boat had tipped forward, crashing down towards the darkness, water surging everywhere, the roar of the waves flooding my ears like the growl of hunger beast, teeth licking in hungry anticipation. The light flew out of my hands as we crashed forward through the dark, water roaring, hair streaking back, voices reaching out in surprise, fear consuming me entirely-

And then we were in the water, black consuming, cold, bloody cold, engulfing us entirely-

With a loud crash, we were out again, bursting through the surf, the world a canvas of pure black, the water reaching and clawing and gnarling, my breath gone, water streaming down my skin and suffocating me, Barbossa's yells like coarse curses-

And we were down again, falling through pitch black, the light of the torch lost in the waters, the black swallowing me down its dark, cold throaty, the water closing over my lungs-

And then, we surfaced, through the black froth, and then plummeted, and then rose, and then fell, and then breathed, and then died; there was no up or no down, no back or front, just water, churning, cold, blinding, horrid water, clinging to me, suffocating, crashing, tearing, gnawing, biting, torrid black, eternal black, no light, no hope. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, my feet casting free, my body whirling in complete freedom and isolation; bodies brushed by me as the water slammed and consumed, pushing through my throat, through my eyes, through my nose…

I broke through the black, lungs gasping, chest heaving, my mouth opening into the night, taking in the sweet, sweet air, faint stars whirling above in a spiral of quiet silver, the moon laughing manically-

And then, I was down, water gushing, water roaring, black consuming-

And I was gone, swept away, completely out of control, liquid darkness laughing all around me, my heart screaming and sobbing and begging as my body lost itself in the frothing abyss-

_I'm dying._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die out here, in the ocean._

_I'm going to drown meters off shore._

_I'm dying._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going-_

_The sirens are going to get me._

_They are going to get me._

Someone screamed.

**88888888888888888888**

There was nothing more miserable then walking through black waters, towards land, cold and wet, salt stinging the eyes like a thousand of little needles.

Nothing.

Nothing on earth.

Not Will.

Not Jared and Scarlett.

Not bloody Sparrow.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Nothing more miserable and sickening and gut-wrenching then walking through the near-dawn waves, chest panging, heart screaming, bile squeezing up my throat like a river of lava, hot and fiery.

Nothing more miserable then striding in the cold, wet to the bone, unseen swirling around cold legs, shoulders shivering with bloody fright, nose tight with salt water.

Nothing more miserable then being out here, in the middle of the ocean, exhausted as hell, heading towards an island none have ever come back from, towards death's gleaming jaws.

Nothing more miserable then being shipwrecked.

Well, in this case, boat wrecked.

_I'm going to kill myself._

_If we ever survive this, I'm killing myself._

"You're the worst pirate in the world," I decided as I took in the last length of the tide, my calves pushing against the waves, water, black, frothy water swirling around my knees as I strode through the surf. Boots, heavy and metal in the black, turning shallows, crunched deep into the murky sand as I walked through the waves, pushing against the leeching tide, the desperate current, the blackness screaming from all sides. Waves roared all around me, like the calling of beasts, pulling against my legs, gnawing at my skin, salt burning my throat like tossing fires; I was cold, and wet but I pushed on, tearing through the black surf, arms digging through rippling dark. Wet, wet hair stuck against bare, shivering shoulders, the bandana tight around my head like a helmet, gushes of river streaming off my dark body, fingers like frozen ice; Sparrow's chimes were still there, in my hair, laughing against my ear, mocking me as I pushed through the waves, breakers like silver horses, tumbling by, against, like charging troops, pushing, grinding, clawing, biting, cold and icy and sharp as hell. My heart beat like a drum, fierce and loud, pounding against the rushing waves and cold, cold wind.

My tongue tasted like salt water.

Thick, vile salt water.

_I'm going to kill myself._

_If we ever survive this, I'm killing myself._

Beside me, charging through the froth with long, dark strides, a shadow, a figure, the soft light from above catching his glinting beads, Sparrow answered in a thick, weary voice, waves roaring in the wind.

"How was I supposed to know de waves was goin' to be dis wild, eh savvy?"

"You're a pirate-"

"Aye, but yer de one carryin' de light-"

"Don't blame this on me!" I whipped my hair against the icy cold, wet strands disgusting and thick against the nape of my neck, my fingers curled and sore with bloody cold, a wave crashing against my back, like grinding teeth; it was dark, liquid dark, the waves black and wet, the shore endless in sight, the exhaustion blinding but there _was _a light, a faint light in the sky, just faint enough to see the ridges of my palms, to see the silver of the crashing, pulling, biting waves.

But it wasn't the stars.

No.

Not the stars.

My chest felt tight, wet, my throat burning with the thick salt; it was disgusting, and cold, cold as hell, the water swirling around my thighs, lapping and pulling, tearing and gnawing, my shoulders slumped with weight. My bodice felt tighter then it should had, the black of the world calling from all around, my bones chilled and frozen, my senses knocked all about like a shell drifting in the black waves; I was bruised, battered, sore, broken, cold, wet….

_And I'm complaining. _

_I get that._

_I'm complaining like a child._

_Like a spoilt little child._

But I _was _cold.

And wet.

And miserable.

And just so bloody tired- before me, the world was black, surging black, fair silver tinting the icy waves, the water tearing through my skin, current clawing through my palms; there was a push, a cold, wet push, and I was tumbling down into the waves yet again, the black waters swallowing me, my sore palms shooting through the froth and crashing down onto black sand. Pain shot through my veins as the cold, salty water stabbing through my mouth-

And then, Sparrow pulled me up, his cold, cold grip vising over my elbow, tight like bloody fingers, my body tearing through the black, wet froth, my throat burning, burning like torching flames, my knees lost in the knocking dark-

"QUIT TOUCHING ME!"

"I'm only tryin' to help yer-"

"Well, don't!" my eyes were burning, burning with icy salt, my nose tight, my lungs tight, my mouth gaping bitter through the black as I struggled up again, my elbow pulling away from his leeching claws, my arm flinging through the cold, cold dark, the waves hitting sharp against my back as my cold boots dug deep into the endless bottom, my entire body cold and miserable and lost in the black waters, "I don't need you're freaking help!"

"You're being irrational, luv-"

"You're a pirate, Jack! _A pirate_- not a carpenter, or a businessman- A FUCKING PIRATE!"

"Stop making so much noise-"

"You know, you would think, that for once, when someone says his something, he's actually good at it-"

"I-"

"What kind of blasted pirate shipwrecks meters off shore?"

"De kind dat has yer as de crew!" He was barking now too, barking loud and rough above the roar of the black waves, his face dark, his eyes like stars winking harsh in the black, black night, rude and glaring, fierce, like beaming stars; I pulled myself up, up from the swirling black, from the taunting cold, gushes of midnight rivers riveting down my wet body as I tore away from the black hands. My mind was foggy, thick, my lungs tight and wet and cold; the waves were pushing again, crashing and tearing and crying but I persisted, my knees pushing through the black deep. Water, black water rushed between my fingers as the current battered against me, whipping, slashing, clawing like a wild beast. My throat burned with fiery salt.

My heart howled.

_I hate my life._

Without another word, I pushed through the waves again, thighs burning, fiery, tearing against the silver froth as I pushed my weary, cold, heavy body forward, away from Sparrow, away from the sea. Black water rushed around my waist, dark, cold, unseeming, my mind dull, my lungs wrecked; there was nothing before me, nothing really, but there was light, a blue light, dark, somewhere high above, the froth silver-like, the water disappearing away, far away, waves roaring against unseen rocks in the distance-

"Dat's it, eh? No witty comeback, luv?"

"I'm not wasting my time with you," I snapped back, throwing my head back; my legs kept moving through, water slashing, current pulling, my legs burning as I pushed through the waves, my body burning with pure exhaustion, blue darkness awaiting in roars, "You're the worst pirate in the world and-"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow-"

"WORST PIRATE IN THE WORLD-"

"We wouldn't have wrecked at all if yer hadn't been carrying the light-"

"I'm 18! I'm from the future! _I know nothing-_"

"If yer people from de future don't even know how to carry a light-"

"So you admit it, you bastard!"

"Admit wh-"

"You know Jared and I are from yer future! YOU KNOW!"

"Yer say it yerself-"

"No, you say…y-you said that we were crazy…._ you didn't believe us_!"

"I never did say dat."

"Yer said we were mad!"

"An' I also say dat-"

"Forget it! I'm not talking to you anymore!" I turned away, knees pushing against the dark waters, salt stinging my eyes, chest heaving up and down in ragged breaths, muscles burning against the cold wet; Sparrow was an idiot, a giant, bloody idiot, a good for nothing piece of trash, a fucking moron who deserves nothing more then to d-

There was a light then, a strong light, a bright, ember light bursting in the shifting dark like a star through a midnight sky, a stab against my burning eyes; it was an orb of flames, a sphere the size of my head, licking up into the bluing sky like lapping tongues. Red, gold and ember swirled together like whispering winds- it was the size of my fist at this distance, a light, a hope in all the weeping dark-

And there, beneath the creeping shadows of the floating light, orange and dark in the midnight, far, far away stars were a pair of eyes.

Black eyes.

Soulless eyes.

Dead eyes.

_Circe._

**Ok. So this was an awful ending for a chapter. I know. I'm sorry. I'm just struggling to write this part. So yes. I know this is long overdue, and I apologise. Sorry again. I know this chapter is not as exciting, but the next one should be; our group will of four will embark onto the island, and trust me when I say that the island is not all that is seems. **

**Anyway, thank you guys again for all the reviews and please review me even more! I really love them and I hope you can help me improve this story in anyway I can. Thanks!**

**XOXO**


	46. Betrayal

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**It's a long one, guys, so HERE WE GO!**

**Chapter 44: Betrayal.**

It was dawn.

Well, not really- up above, high up beyond my wincing eyes, beyond the rushing waves and cold wind, the sky was a deep, luscious blue, the colour of navy flags, of deep, twisted waters, endless in sight. There were no more stars, no more bright winking silver eyes, no more pitch black hiding the entire world like a dark mask; it was dawn, and the sky was blue, dark blue, cobalt, a endless stretch of plain, unmolested sky, no clouds, no light. The sun had not peeked but it was still bright, bright enough to see the blue glow of the world, to see the sapphire waves crashing around my ankles, to see the blue-black trees whispering against the jagged, ghostly rock, to see my footprints turn indigo in the pale blue sand. Sweet, sweet wind washed azure in the wakening world.

The moon's smile was like a lonely painting.

The wind's sigh was like a lover's whisper.

I felt cold.

_Beautiful._

_It was all so beautiful._

All around me, the world was blue, a blue dawn, a blue day, a blue rhapsody filling my every sight, my every scent, my every feel; moments ago, minutes, the world had been dark, black, clinging, cold like death's claws-

But it was incredible now, an incredible world of blue, the dawn of the approaching morn stretching its limbs as the day woke from its black slumber. Black trees rustled, waves licked cold, and the wind was but a song, a sweet song, a melody ruffling against my dripping hair, ringing Sparrow's beads against my cold ear like bells in a far-away dream-

Only I wasn't dreaming.

Only this wasn't a dream.

I was really here, on the beach of Boinca, steps away from the Fountain Of Youth, dripping wet.

I was really in this blue world.

This dreamy blue world.

_Beautiful._

_It was all so beautiful._

Water pulled between my toes.

To my right and left was the beach, the stretching beach, pale blue in the dawn, water and sand painted straight on like a never-ending road. The surf was cold against the lapping earth, spray misting the morning air like a fog above the break, the white, cold waves like pale stars rushing in, roaring against rocks. Foam littered the forgotten sands like pale spider webs, silver and blue webbing out like constellations on the jagged black rocks, the never-resting rhythm of the sea reaching in and out, pushing and pulling, wispy white its only debris. Cold water, like icy fingers kissed against the back of my weary ankles, pulling, but failing, letting go the moment they kissed, the moment they touched; I was too far inland now, too far inland for the sea to tease me, bully me, crash me and pull me with taunting black waves. It could only but touch me now, licking in fond memory, burying my metal boots deeper and deeper into the mushy sand. Misty spray chilled against my skin, against my bare shoulders, the wind holding me in its folds; to my right, and to my left, the beach wounded off into the distance, curving away into the gloom, a circular road that ended a straight run, like the base of a semi-circle. Edges, pale blue edges disappeared away into forgotten trees, winding into thin air, the beach squinting into non-existence against the rushing silver caps. Bloodied, black rocks tore out at the fine, pale points.

Even my skin seemed blue.

It was still too dark to see my feet.

Before me, beyond the wide beach, the wide, thick beach of pale blue sands, streaky, silver foam and scattered, gleaming shells was a row of trees, dark trees, tall and beautiful, palms swaying, creaking in the sweet wind; but it was not a forest, not a jungle like back on Circe's island. It was too thin to be any sense of a forest, too thin, though it stretched the length of the isle on either side, blue-black trees rustling all the way to the curved edges, following the path of the beach; it only had to be about 3 meters thick, the trees sparely planted, gaps gleaming blue as clusters of plants stuck together, leaving huge spaces between them. They were like desert plants, growing into the sand, palms sticking together, coconut trees gathered at the other end, shrubs of dotted red scattered all about. There was no pattern, no thickness, just a smattering of plants, of dark trees, travelling along the length of the island, the blue of the waking dawn turning them into tall monsters, their limbs heavy and deep. Rustles of leaves, of large and small, shuddered in the cold, struggling above the crash of the waves, sweeter, purer then the sea could eve be; they were beautiful in the blue, beautiful shapes, beautiful tones, beautiful creatures of the deepest and thickest indigo. Rocks poked out in between their neighbourhoods, fresh out of the sand like sharp teeth, the trees like dancing monsters in the cold, cold sea breeze-

But it was not the trees that stood out.

Nor was it the beach, the travelling beach of misty spray and silver foam.

No.

Not the beach.

Not the trees.

It was not them that had caught my attention that had _taken _my attention.

No.

Not them.

Not them at all.

Beyond the curving blue beach, beyond the whispering indigo trees, beyond the jagged black rocks and scattered azure shells and wispy silver foam, were cliffs, giant, black cliffs; they rose out of the island, from the very ground, dark, tall, wide and sharp, a horrid blue in the torrid of the dawn. They were behind the trees, behind the beach, rock after rock reaching up into the dark blue sky; there was no way to describe. No decent way.

How could I?

It was a monster, a giant, dark monster, jagged, raw, emerging from the middle of the island like a thorn, inland, black and tall and sharp like claws. It was a void in all the blue, a dark in the whispering blue world; it was not elegant like the tilting, pale beach, nor mysterious like the creaking indigo trees but ugly, putrid, hard black rock slicing up through the blue sky like a cold dagger, aiming straight through the gloom. It's shadow was cold, and its edge was sharp; it could have been a small mountain with its reaching height but it had not the slopes of a hill but the straight incline of a murderous cliff, stone piling above one another in a vertical climb, tearing through the sky. Trees rustled against its sides, brushing softy against the ugly stone, shrubs kissed against its weathered feet-

And it was ugly, pure ugly, a blimp of untainted black in all the swirling of the pure blue, a barb, a spike, sticking right through the earth, a giant colossus that stretched on and on, all the way to the sides of the pale beach, disappearing around the bends of blue, a dagger, the very heart of the island-

And there, on its' very tip, far above in the wayward blue sky, somewhere upon the very edge of the cliff was what looked like a tree-

"Listen."

It was Barbossa, his voice quiet and dark and in the soft gloom of the blushing blue and trickling, silver waves, I looked down, down from the ugly edifice, from the tower of endless cliffs, and towards my right; he was beside me, the older pirate, standing upon the sapphire surf, shoulder's squared, face grim and set, his straggly grey beard a wispy pale in the blue dawn. His black leather jacket was flapping far into the wind, his crooked arms upon his hips like sharp angles, pointy and hard. Upon his head, the black hat wobbled and shivered in the breeze, his plume whimpering; it was strange, seeing the man in the dawn, in the blue dawn, his wrinkled, hard skin an odd hue of blue, his silver buttons gleaming like sapphires. Silver-blue waves roared around his metal ankles.

His shoulder seemed empty without Little Jack.

His mouth was set in a line.

My scabs were itching again.

"What?"

"Listen."

"There's nothing, eh," Sparrow's voice echoed out behind me in his low drawl, thick in the misty blue; I didn't bother to look back at him but he was right: there was nothing, nothing except the roaring waves behind, the howling blue wind and the indigo trees, rustling against limestone, hushing in memories. Blue seashells twinkled like stars among silver froth.

Chimes danced in my ear.

Barbossa's voice was like a spat.

"Exactly," he was gazing ahead, ahead through the tingling blue, through the whispering purple trees and jagged rocks, along the sharp cliffs and black rock, "There's nothin'- no birds, no crickets-"

"Maybe they're still asleep-"

"It'll be almost dawn, lass. De birds ought to be awake."

And he was right, of course; there were no bird sounds, no soft crooning of canaries, the dark trees swaying in silence, their branches empty, lifeless, cold. Rustles of branches, of wooden twigs, of giant leaves sighed through the air, cobalt shadows trailing down blue foams; but there were no birdcalls, no high-pitched screams of waking seagulls, no dancing melodies lilting through the trees like reeds playing a tune in an ancient forest.

No birds.

No song.

And no insects either, no creaking of shuddering feelers, no random hooting of forgotten animals; it was just an island, an island with sparse trees, thick shrubs, blue beaches and giant cliffs, jutting right out it's heart like a towering, ugly black mountain. Waters rushed up along its side, spraying the world with cerulean mist, the indigo shadows wavering against black rock, dark blue sky clear like a crystal eye…

It was an island.

An island without life.

"Then where are all the animals?" my neck felt raw, the nape exposed, naked, completely vulnerable, water trickling down my back; Barbossa was right. It _was _quiet. _Too_ quiet.

I mean, was that even possible? An island, a tropical, wild devoid of any sounds other then that of the sea? No birds? No animals?

No life?

The water pulled around my ankles, cold, seeping through the brown cloth, my body still rippling with the slight shivers, the world salty and pure; there was a feeling now, a gnawing in my stomach, my tongue turning bitter, my mind kicking into full alert. My guts twisted thick and raw, my chest tightening; I don't know why but something told me to grab the hilt of my sword, and I did, fingers gliding over the ornate gold, its cool metal a wet, reassuring kiss. A knot squeezed around my throat.

_Something was wrong._

_Wasn't it?_

_Wasn't it?_

_Shouldn't there be some sort of noise, some sort of sound of a waking jungle, of stretching animals-_

_Shouldn't there be some sort of-_

"Dead," It was a simple word, a single voice, but almost instantly, almost simultaneously, my blue world froze, my blood choked and my heart stopped beating altogether; it was Circe, and she was standing there, at the very edge of my vision, her blue silk dress pale and haunting, trickling down to the twinkling sand. Black curls fell like ink waterfalls, her ebony skin blue in the dawn, her back rigid straight; I couldn't see her face for she was staring ahead, at the sparse trees, at the rigging black cliffs. Her arms, her delicate but strong arms were stiff by her side, her palms upturned, like daggers up to heaven, hands thrust forward like in worship. Her neck was strained up, her chin up high, the hidden eyes gazing straight up along the cliff. Black ink curls laughed and danced; she was like a ghost again, a beautiful ghost, pale and silent and ethereal in the blue pallor of the world. Azure waves, like shivering cerulean veils, licked against her naked ankles.

Her voice was like a misty dream.

Barbossa sighed.

I turned around.

"Where yer goin', luv?"

"Home," I answered grudgingly, as I turned around and marched by the dark blue figure of Sparrow, heading back towards the water, metal boots churning through the rushing waves, damp curls swinging, the world like a blooming blush of brilliant coral; the sea opened up before me again, an expanse of the most deepest blue, the three ships sitting in the distance like big rocks jutting out of the waters, blue and black sails shredding through the pure sky. The horizon was still dark, the sun still hidden away beneath the dark line, the stars completely gone from the world-

Sparrow's clever long fingers grabbed the top of my head.

"HEY!"

"Yer wanted to come with us, now here yer are." I don't know how he did it but the next thing I knew, I was spinning back to the cliffs and blue sands, Sparrow's spidery fingers twisting above my bandana and turning me around like a top. Wet curls twirled and frothy waves kicked up against me, boots flipping over in the thick sand, jagged cliffs tearing back into my vision; I was turned back, back to the island, back to Boinca, with Sparrow's large hand sitting upon my head like a meaty hat. Dark dreadlocks hit against my nose.

Water slashed against my knees.

"Paws off, feline!"

"Yer wanted to come-"

"And now I'm changing my mind!" I snarled up at him, at his twinkling dark eyes, at his dancing golden beads; with a loud grunt, I pulled out from under his grip, away from his tearing fingers, bobbing down away from him and almost falling back into the cold waters. Thick waves crashed down against my calves.

Sparrow's reaction time was startling.

"So I suppose you'll be swimmin' den?" his hand snapped back towards him, in his usual drunken way, his eyes bright and wide, his skin a dark blue in the waking dawn, his dark moustache twitching above low, drawling words, "Or paddlin', which ever yer would prefer, of course."

"I would have preferred if you hadn't crashed the boat."

"I told yer-"

"Would you two barnacles just shut it?" Barbossa yelled then, a loud coarse yell, and I twisted my grimace from the smiling, strange man and towards the farther figure of Barbossa at the crest, his stoic dark figure, "As yer can see, we've got more important matters den yer bloody nonsense, eh?"

"Matters I don't want any part of-"

"Yer stayin' lass, yer hear?" He growled back at me and beneath his dark hat, beneath his wavering plume and among his blue-tinged skin and waving coat, Barbossa's eyes were squinted together, yellow and cat-like, frustrated, "Yer supposed to be takin' Will's share in de Fountain-"

"I never said that I would-"

"Den why on earth do yer think yer here in de first place? Sight-seeing?"

"Look, you can just take it for him-"

"Take it for him? For Turner? If I had it me way, he wouldn't even part of any of dis."

"_Your _way?"

"Aye-"

"If not for Will, you wouldn't even be here!"

"I'm Captain Barbossa, yer wench!" his tone was nasty now, thick, vile, his dark figure a shady blue upon the dark beach, the indigo trees singing against black rock, shadows long and dark and hard, "I would have found this place _without _yer Turner's help-"

"Technically, I was de one with de map all along-"

"SHUT UP, SPARROW-"

There was a whip then, in the turning blue of the dawn, of the crashing waves and rustling leaves, Captain Hector Barbossa pulled out his long pistol from his holster and aimed it straight at me, the narrow barrel a small black hole pointing at my chest. He was not too far from me, about three meters, the plume upon his sundial hat like a passing fair in the blue world; it was gun, a long, slim gun, an ancient gun, not in look but in design, a gun that I had only seen in the movies and a few times before in passing. It was there now, though, there for me to admire, its sleek wood carved so perfectly-

It was pointing at me.

It took me a moment to register the very fact that a gun, a _gun_, was actually aiming at me, that the very possibility of being shot was real and raw. It took me a few long, miserable seconds; I never had a gun pointed to me before, never except back at Port Royal, but that was different of course. The bullets had been flying, I had been running and for the life of me, I hadn't bothered about the fact that a _gun_ was aiming for me.

But it was different now.

Now, a gun was pointing right at me.

A gun that could kill me.

Beside me, I felt Sparrow move, his arm brushing against mine as his fingers reached down to his belt.

My heart froze in my chest.

The waves crashed.

"What-"

"Let me tell yer somethin' lass," his voice was cold, silent, his arm lean and straight and strict as he held the pistol and aimed straight at me, his yellow eyes dark beneath the blue of the world, my mind freezing still, my body cold and dead, "I let yer come on dis trip not because I like yer, but because I rather have yer over dem Bootstrap any day. If I had things me way, none of yer would even be here-"

"You wouldn't have known about the map if not for Will…and ok, Sparrow too-"

"I have lived too long, and have died too much to have me last chance at immortalit' get fooled up by a little girl," there was bitterness in his voice now, and as I stared at him, at his cold, yellow eyes, at his curled, ugly lips, at his fluttering black hat and down the barrel of the slim gun, his thumb resting above, ready, "Yer hear? I'm not goin' to let a plank grub ruin any of dis, even it means shooting yer-"

"I'm not ruining anything!" I must be a fool, some kind of stupid fool, for the gun was aimed at me and at any moment, at any word, Barbossa could just shoot me dead, and I would be gone from the world. He could just squeeze his fingers, and it would be lights out, total black; but I was talking, talking away, my shoulder squared, my throat tight, my fingers clenching around the cool hilt. My lungs were taut.

Water kicked against my calves, blue waves, lapping in surrender.

Purple trees whispered and giggled, like dancing elves, blue in the waking world.

Black rock stared down at me.

I could barely breathe.

"Yer sure-"

"I'll stay, ok?" I nodded, trying to breathe, trying to think, my heart still, my brain numb, my blood frozen away in solid rivers, wind ruffling against the back of my neck, "I'll tag along, and get Will's freaking potion thing-"

"And yer will only be seen, not heard?"

"Of course not-"

"Listen here-"He straightened, tightening the grip around the ornate pistol but I cut him off, my breath ragged in the torn sea wind.

"Look, I'm not going to destroy your little picnic, alright?" the barrel was so sleek, the hole like a gaping maw, deep and dark, my feet resisting the urge to break into a run, "You'll get your freaking immortality, and then we can all go home-"

"If yer slow me down for even one min-"

"What? You'll shoot me?"

"Aye."

"Hector…" It was Sparrow, surprisingly, mumbling through the cold wind but loud enough for all on the beach to hear, his dark, dark eyes wide and deep, his stare rigid, his fingers still trailed on his belt; but Barbossa ignored him, as if he was even there. He just stared at me, his eyes hard and cold, his leather coat flapping back behind him, the pistol aimed right for my heart.

My fingers tightened around the hilt.

The medicine men's eye whispered in my ear.

_Insane_

_This was so insane._

"You would really kill me," I let the words slid out softly but I kept staring at the gun, at the slim barrel, waiting for it to pop, to fire deep into the blue, to hit me square in the chest and end my life forever, "for your freaking immortality?"

"Yer don't matter to me, so aye, I would. If yer waste anymore of me time, I will."

"I've done nothing-"

"I don't care if yer were me daughter," he cocked the pistol then, a sharp _crack _in the blue, my heart jumping at the sound, my body jolting as the metallic pop echoed across the roaring blue waves and rustling indigo trees, "Yer a nuisance, lass, always have been, always will be. Here we are, moments away from eternal life and yer arguing with me, like some stupid-"

"Hey-"

"One more word, and I'll kill yer, yer hear?" he spat, his voice rough, coarse, horrid, and I felt, for the slightest moment, for the truest moment, a blinding pain in my chest that I actually _could _die, right here, in the blue waters, bleeding away at Sparrow's feet, lost to the world forever, "One more word, and I'll gun yer down."

"I don't understand-"

There was a bang then, a loud, thunderous clap, like the booming of a cannon right by my ear; something whizzed over the top of my head, and for a moment, I went absolutely still, my entire body freezing into shock, fear choking up my bloodline. My heart stopped beating altogether and blood roared through my ears, my tongue gone, my breath gone, my entire body gone-

And then, Sparrow was in front of me, his pistol raised as well, his body shielding mine, his messy thick hair crashing against my face. Foul rum slammed against me as the dark man jumped right in front of me and held out his long gun, the silver winking blue in the dawn, the barrel pointed right towards Barbossa-

And then, there was silence, both men pointing the gun at each other, glaring at one another through the azure, eyes dark, eyes quiet. My blood felt like frozen ice, my heart silent, my breath gone and dead…

But there was nothing, nothing I could do but watch as both men stared at each other, pistol against one another, the sea wind laughing around as if in entertainment. Hairs whipped into the wind, shoulders tensed, silver and wood pistols gleamed softly in the blue, rings winked sapphire, coats flapped back like flags, like Jolly Rogers, hands tight and wound and relentless. They were both glaring, their eyes meeting, their faces still, emotionless; I couldn't see Sparrow, not with him in front of me but over his shoulder, Barbossa was just staring, face set, lips set, his eyes like haunting spells through the waving cobalt. Black crags loomed above, shadows long and hard.

Waves licked like hungry dogs, cold and nagging.

The blue wind rushed cold, icy and sweet.

Beads rang loud and clear in my ear.

Silence screamed.

"Yer don't have dat curse protectin' yer anymore, Hector," Sparrow's voice was low, extremely low, my tongue bitter and raw, my heart dead and gone, still forever, "Yer know I can kill yer, just as easily as last time." His body barely moved, his shoulders straight, his gun firm, his voice quiet, Barbossa like a statue with a smoking gun; unconsciously, I began to pull my sword out, my fingers gripping tight around the cold gold as the smooth metal slowly pulled up of the sheath, the red ruby scratching against my palm. Metal _swoshed_ ever so softly against the thick leather as the metal inched upward, my arm gathering strength, my lungs struggling to breathe in the salty blue air; I had a sword, and that was all. No gun, no rifle, just a blade, a blade that had saved me countless times before but a blade no less.

A blade in a gunfight.

_That was what it was, wasn't it?_

_That was what you called a situation where two men, preferably outlaws, stood opposite each other, with guns drawn at point blank, right?_

_Right? _

_It's called a gunfight._

_A gunfight._

_I was in a gunfight. _

_I had _started _a gunfight._

_Sparrow and Barbossa were in a gunfight, and if Sparrow was to miss and go down, then I only had my sword as protection-_

_But would he really?_

_Would Barbossa really kill me?_

_I get that I was annoying sometimes-_

_Or was it just how pirates were?_

_Was this how they worked?_

_Did pirates go around, shooting people who got in their way?_

_Did pirates not give a damn about everyone else?_

_Were they just bloody assholes?_

_Will wasn't, was he?_

_And neither was Lestrade, and though I really can't say the same for Bootstrap-_

And then, in the blue quiet, in the soft roaring of the sapphire waves and the howling of the pale wind, in the beautiful world of the cerulean dawn, Circe spoke, her voice ringing through the air like bells on a Sunday morning, loud and clear, beautiful and distant, like a faded memory.

"I'm afraid that guns do not help us at this moment," her voice was so odd as usual, so strange, like falling water or laughing chimes and I couldn't help but turn away, turn away from the fight, from the glaring men and back towards her again; she was as we had left her, on the beach, at the crest, staring up at the jagged black cliffs, palms outstretched, curls enchanting. Her back was still to us and her shoulders were still as straight, her dress swaying softly in the pale, a ghost, and for a moment, my heart let out one single beat, like a gasp, a sharp intake of breath.

My scabs were beginning to break again.

Sparrow was very still.

"Eh?" Barbossa threw his head back a little, his voice like cracking wood, dry and sharp, but he kept his harsh yellow eyes on Sparrow, his lips twisted away into a disgusted snarl, his beard straggling through the blue morning, "An' what would exactly help at dis moment?"

For a moment, she was quiet, and the two men went back to glaring at each other, guns pointing, faces set, my fingers clenched tight around the gold hilt; and then, through the waking of the blue world, Circe spoke, her voice like a song.

"Climbing."

**888888888888888888**

My scabs broke.

Before me, clutching against the sharp rock, pressed up along the jagged black edges, my hands were dripping red, bloody trails slithering down my wrists like snakes of fire, warm against my cool skin. Fiery red glided down uneven tan, dripping down to the black rock in thick crimson globs, nails gleaming ragged and torn; my cuts were opening but I couldn't see them, the back of my hands clean, my fingers digging against the harsh rock. Pain seared through my palms, tinging and raw, shredding through my skin, folds creeping open and blood, thick, red blood dripped away, slow and beautiful, like a mirage in a dream.

Warm blots hit against my cloth-clad knee like bullets, drip, drop.

Red rivers itched down to sweaty elbows.

Scabs cracked away.

_I hate my life._

_I really, really hate my life._

Beneath me, beneath the small, rock ledge, beneath my tipping feet and hustling cold wind, was the beach, miles below, purple and blue and dark like distant mirages, far, far away. Indigo trees swayed way beneath my feet like far away tops, leaves, shadows, shifting in the wind far below, miles below, shuffling against the black rock, their heads bald in the middle, black chasms creeping in irregular patterns. The shore was even further away, a line of blue stretching on either side, silver waves reaching up and down; I was high, very high, so high that the shore didn't look like the shore but a shimmer of silver, a marker's line, stretching along a blue world, a border between deep turning sapphire and pale azure. Rocks looked like pinpricks of black, little periods dotting the pale sands, shells like gleaming stars, Orion's Belts and Little Dippers of silver dotting about, splayed about, a setting sky of sand and shells. Spray was a soft mist, a seeping fog, churning, turning over the silver line; beyond, the sea was an endless expanse of the most deepest blue, the horizon dark with azure, the ships dots of black in a windy cobalt world-

And I was high.

Really high.

Like really, really high.

Like if I lost my grip and fell, if my feet gave way and my body turned limp….

I'll probably smashed into tiny little bits among the trees.

Or rock.

Or sand.

Or whatever.

It didn't matter; I was miles of the ground, deep up into the blue skies, my hands bleeding against black rock and my feet, my ankles sticking out over the ledge, threatening to fall. Sharp rock, like a razor edge, pressed against my chest as I clung against the rock, leaning against the wall, moving my body as close to the shelf as I possibly could. Black pebbles rolled beneath the edges of my fingers, my bloody worn fingers, the cold, cold sea wind pushing against my hair, flapping it over my eyes; I _was_ cold, up here, way up from the ground, my body shivering with the tingling icy wind-

_And hunger._

_And exhaustion._

_And just plain bloody stupidity._

_After all, this was my idea._

_I wanted to come._

_Not Sparrow._

_Not Barbossa. _

_Me._

_My idea._

_I wanted to come._

_I wanted to tag along._

_Tag along on this fucking adventure._

_Tag along on this little expedition._

_Tag along on this mass-suicide._

_Because I'm addicted to danger._

_Because I have ADHD._

_Because I'm just a plain idiot._

_A bloody idiot._

With a last sigh, with a sharp intake of cold, tainted breath, I pressed down my aching, torn palms down on the black rock and ignoring the wincing pain and peeling skin, I heaved upward, my elbows tucking out, blood dripping. My knees buckled and my feet kicked off, and in a slow, laboured effort, I pressed myself harder against the black rock, against the hard, ugly rock, and pushed myself up. My body weight shifted as my feet lifted off the tiny ledge, my weary arms took in the weight, and with a final grunt of seeping pain, I pushed myself off the ledge and onto the very top. My tightly wrapped bodice, the brown leather, hit hard against the smooth ledge with a loud _plank_, the rock cold and flawless like ice, my fingers twisting through the black grains-

And then I rolled over, on my back, on the black rock and turned up towards the sky, towards the deep blue expanse and endless height, the perfect world. Cerulean, smooth strokes of azure, filled my world as I laid back my head and spread out my hands, the tiny black rocks poking against my sweaty skin, blood draining my hands, my palms pulsing with pain. My feet sank back in my boots as they pointed up, up towards the blue skies, the moon a fading smile in the distant edge, the cold, slightly sour wind gliding across my face. My palms were hot with blood, the gashes thick and raw, my fingers numbing, the skin cracking away like peeling paint, my vein tremoring like a beating drum; for a moment, I just wanted to lie there.

Just lie there.

The blue was perfect, the rock was smooth, my hands had lost all strength and-

And I was tired.

So freaking tired.

My arms were thrumming.

My head was spinning.

My bones were aching.

My thighs were burning.

My lungs-

I wanted to lie there.

I just wanted to lie there.

I just wanted to lie there, to let my bones sink into the black rock, to let my flesh rot away, to let my eyelids fall over and sew tight over my skin.

I just wanted to sleep, to fall dead asleep, to never wake up-

"What yer doin', luv?"

It was Sparrow, and he was standing over me now, a dark, ugly blot in the blue world, black dreadlocks hanging high above me. He was looking down at me, dark eyes like twinkles of stars, beads glinting, and in half a second, the sweet blue air had been crashed away by the foul smell of sour rum. Booted feet kicked grains of harsh black against my resting head.

Frustration gnawed at my chest.

Fingers closed over hot blood.

Beads rang.

"Go away, Sparrow," I grunted roughly as I closed my eyes, knocking my head back, my muscles sighing in relief, my body begging, pleading for sleep, "Just leave me here to die."

"Yer brother would never for'give me if I did."

"Bet you quarts that he has already forgotten about me."

"Just get off de ground, would yer?" There was a grunt in his voice, a sort of strained weariness, and so I moved, with much effort, my bones protesting in sorrow; my body was lazy, my head heavy, sleep pulling me deep in it's embrace but with a soft moan, I opened my eyes and rolled on my stomach, clenching my hands over twisting wounds, ignoring the pain. Hot damp and tiny pebbles stuck between my fingers as I twisted over onto my chest, my knees pulling up in slow agony. The blue sky tilted away, falling, twisting until it was not the deep blue that I saw but the black earth, the jagged rocks poking before my eyes, pressing against my skin. Black dust wafted into my nose as I stretched and began to pull up, my muscles whining, my body moaning, sleep begging me to return to him, to fall back into his embrace, to sink back into the black, black world….

"Volcanic rock," the black dust wafted in between my bloody fingers, trickling like sand, my eyes droopy, my head spinning, but somehow, in the limbo sleep had dragged me into, in the foggy, hazy world, I recognised the rock, the dark, ugly rock that laid before me now, that pricked me. It _was_ volcanic, or something like it; there was a sulphuric smell to it, a sour, horrid smell, diluted, faded but there, pinching against my nose, the rock hard and ugly beneath the grains-

"Volcanic?"

"Yea," despite the pain in my palms, despite my pure exhaustion, I willed my eyes apart and picked up a handful of black grains, ignoring the pain as the dust glided about the torn wounds. Black scattered about fleshy red, crumbs digging into torn skin; beside me, near my trailing, dirty hair, Sparrow stood quietly, his shadow falling over me, dark and black, a blot of darkness against the blue, blue world. Cold wind whipped against my hair as I propped up on my sweaty elbows and held the grains before my eyes; it was dust, black dust but irregular, some big, some small, wave-like patterns trending along dark granite. Wounds winced under the scattering dust, skin uncomfortable, blood mixing with the black. Sulphur, the faintest of it, lingered before my nose.

_What the-_

"Volcanic?"

"Yes, you idiot," I growled at him, tilting my palm and letting the dust scatter back to the rock, wafting away in the air, sour before my nose, clumps sticking to my dripping blood, "Volcanic. Volcanic rock- you know, igneous rocks, of volcanic origin. It's…. it's andesite, I think…um…or basalt, maybe… I think it's andesite-"

"How do yer know dis?"

"I got an A in Geography."

"A? What in Calypso's name does dat stand for?"

"Um…. Astounding? A miracle? Exhilarating…oh…no, no…exhilarating is spelled with an 'e'-"

"LASS!"

It was Barbossa, his scream loud and clear, gnawing at the back of my skull, sour wafting about my nose; a pit, a sick, twisting pit clawed at me, a blooming irritation as the pirate's voice echoed away, up into the blue sky, travelling across the black rocks, crashing against my skin. Hands, bloody, dusty hands clenched hard as the voice spiked up against my spinning, exhausted mind, like a dagger, frustrating, infuriating.

Maddening.

Pain rippled through my tortured hands.

I looked up.

Before me was a flat world, a flat, black world, the rock stretching on in a plain, a field. No trees, no lakes, no mountains, no flowers; just black, all the way, a sea of still, quiet black. It was like staring out at the ocean, but a deep ocean, a black ocean, an endless expanse of black rock, silently drifting off into the distance. The horizon was a black line in the end, a margin between the deep blue and the smooth black, the two colours touching one another like bars, like blocks, like bricks, blue on top of black, a dome of azure over a plain of dark. Dust drifted about in the sour wind, scattering like petals, swirling about in myriads, centimetres off the ground, like sand in a desert, little black tornados twirling above the black rock; there was a strange beauty to it of course, but there was nothing else. No plants, no life, just blue and black, all the way, never ending, never breaking. Cold wind howled above the blue-black, like a travelling banshee.

The waves roared softly below.

With a tired yawn, I slowly climbed to my feet, clenching my bloody, pained hands by my side, trying to rub off the clotted dust, thighs and calves and body moaning in agony; nothing had changed, though. Nothing at all; the ground was still flat and black, endless, ongoing, dark and dusty and rocky to the horizon and for a moment, for a brief moment, I couldn't help but imagine that the plain, that the plain of rock, was endless, never-ending, never-ending to the very tip of the world.

As if this cliff would lean on, this flat plateau of black rock would travel, stretch, all the way to the very end of the universe.

As if I was staring at the final horizon.

But that was impossible, wasn't it?

I mean, first of all, the earth was round. There _was_ no end, and no matter that stupid story Lestrade told me about the captains going to the end of the world to find Sparrow. The earth was round. Period. There was no end.

Secondly, this cliff-well, plateau- could not possibly even lead to the end of the world. Of course, if there was an end of the world, even such a thing as the plain carrying on and on and on and on….

But it did seem that way, though; there were no mountains, no hills, no sense of life, not even the ocean, rounding up the island. The cliffs turned after all, along with the beach; I could see it, see the cliff turn, see a sliver of blue waters off to the left and right but the world was only black straight ahead, pure and untainted black.

No sea.

No trees.

No mountains.

Just black.

A desert of black.

_This is creepy._

_Freaking creepy._

I don't know what is was, but something was…just…_weird_; I was staring at nothing, and nothing was staring at me, quiet, silent, the wind howling over the barren rock, the end never in sight. Whispers lured through my ears, the stench of sulphur ripe but faded, like a distant memory; it was just dead, pure dead black, stretching all the way, all, all the way…

And something wasn't right.

Something.

I didn't know what.

It was just so quiet, and still and silent, and yet, at the same time, I couldn't help but feel like something was watching me, like something was out there…

But there was nothing, was there?

Nothing at all.

Just a flat, black plateau-cliff, stretching for miles and miles, so long that I couldn't even see the sea anymore.

Just a flat, black plateau-cliff.

Harmless.

A rocky desert.

A black desert.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Absolutely nothing at all.

But why was I feeling so weird then?

Why was there this tugging at my heart, this gnawing at my chest?

Why was there this pinprick at the nape of my neck, this feeling clawing at my guts?

Why was there this stabbing in my heart, this ringing in my groggy head, this clouding of ear?

Why was my mouth suddenly so dry?

Why was my heart so heavy?

Why was-

_**Joey.**_

It was a voice, a soft voice, a soft voice in the back of my head….

No.

No, it wasn't.

No.

It was just my imagination.

It was just this place, this creepy, bleak place giving me wild imaginations, playing with my exhaustion.

It was just this freaky place.

Nothing more.

No voice.

No weird feelings.

Nothing.

Nothing but the endless black.

Nothing but the black desert.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

I was just losing my mind.

I was just-

All of a sudden, the world was grey, bleak grey-

And then it was blue again, the same blue, the deep blue, the thick, clear blue, my tanned hands blue again, blood dark with azure, the cobalt rushing back to the world-

A roar stabbed through my ear then, a loud, clear roar, right in my ear, a horrible beast howling into the silence, dust swirling, shaking, jumping into the air-

And a scream, a bloody scream, a terrifying scream, a horrifying, blood-curling, heart-stopping scream-

Warm fingers grabbed my own then, warm against clotted hot red; in a blink of an eye, in a moment's gasp, the world was back to normal, to the very normal. Blue blushed overhead again, and the black stretched on to the horizon, a sea of dark rock, of volcanic rock- the sky was no longer grey and the silence was back, a deep, thick silence, the dreadful silence. The cold wind, the sour air, howled over the barren land like lost souls again, dust swirling, black twirling; the roar was gone, a horrid roar, and the scream that had pierced my ears, the scream that had stopped my heart was muted away, like a memory that had never existed. Only waves rushed now, far away behind me, fading away into the twinkling blue, my wind spinning around, out of control…

"Come on, luv," Sparrow muttered in my ear, and with a tight grip around my bloody hands, he began to pull me away, pulling my sweaty limb, dragging my feet through black dust. My body followed helplessly, my mind numb, gone.

Dead.

Completely dead.

_What the hell had just happened?_

_What the fuck?_

_I mean, couldn't just have imagined that._

_I couldn't just have imagined that grey skies._

_I couldn't just have imagined that bloody roar, that furious howl._

_I couldn't just have imagined that terrifying scream-_

_But I had, hadn't I?_

_What other explanation was there?_

_What other?_

_There was nothing living before, nothing but the black desert, the black cliff, stretching all the way to the horizon, meeting the deep blue skies at the very end. _

_There was nothing except the black dust._

_Nothing._

_Nothing at all._

_Then where had the sound come from?_

_Where was the roar?_

_The scream?_

_Who had screamed?_

_Was it even real?_

_Or was it all a dream?_

_A very vivid, horrid dream?_

_A dream in result of my pooling blood?_

_A dream, because of my freaking exhaustion?_

_A dream?_

_Was that what it all was?_

_A fucking dream?_

_A really, really, realistic stu-_

"Did you see that?" my voice was a whisper, a hoarse whisper, my feet moving without consent, the black horizon bleak and dark and endless before me, whispering, calling, a hole gnawing through the pit in my heart; I couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't think. My mind was confused, my vision blurred, my ears pounding, my mouth dry, and before me, Sparrow was just moving silently, his eyes downward, his hand tight around my blood. Pain tore through my palms but I didn't care; there was something so _wrong_ about this, about this whole entire place….

My heart wouldn't stop screaming.

_A dream._

_That's all it is._

_A dream._

_A freaking dream._

_Nothing more._

_Right?_

"See what?" Sparrow voice was a low rumble, a low call and for a moment, for a brief moment, I couldn't help but believe that I _had _imagined it, that I _had _imagined the roar and the scream and the grey skies and that the entire little vision had been nothing more then a product of my exhaustion or my impending insanity. His face was still, emotionless, blank, proving that he _hadn't_ seen anything, that I was just going way, way mad-

Fear screamed in his eyes.

**88888888888888888888888888888**

Barbossa and Circe were arguing.

At least, that was they seemed to be doing as we approached them, our feet crunching over the wafting dust, the air tinged with horrid sulphur; they were standing near the edge of the cliff, at least a meter from the ledge, facing one another, shouting into the blue.

Well, at least Barbossa was; he stood with his front to us, his large black hat a giant shadow upon his face, his skin a dark tan blue, like the colour of condensed copper. His silver buttons winked at his coat like a stars in a faded night, his belt thick around his chest like a dark snake slithered around his body. His arms were propped up on the hips as usual and as Sparrow and I approached them, dust kicking, blood dripping, palms moaning, the pirate's voice echoed up into the air like a calling horn, loud and rude and abrasive in the cold azure skies. His thin hair flapped about in the wind like a flag, a pale blue against black .

His yellow eyes were like diamonds, flinting in fire.

His voice was like falling trees.

My mind was cold.

"You're not hearin' what I'm sayin', Lily!" he was screaming, a horrible scream, his face screwed, his hawk nose looming out of his tempted face like a blue gem, his cat eyes fiery, his lips curled away into a furious snarl, "Where, in de name of Calypso, is it?" He was fiery now, brutal, his shoulders tensed, his face tight and raw and blue with raging, bloody anger, the sky a dome above his head; opposite him, standing at least a head shorter, Circe was silent, her black hair trickling behind her in a waterfall of black and blue, the pale of her world lining the ink curls, the wind playing with them, beautiful in all the azure. Her pale dress shimmered along the black rock, her bare heels cold and naked against the floating dust, her ebony arms dark by her side; her back was to us but somehow, somewhere, I could tell she was calm, calm and quiet as deep water.

Black grains swirled at my feet, little tornados, slow and beautiful, rolling over flat rock.

Wind howled high, reaching up into the dome blue sky, dancing with the sour air, with the sour scent of the faded sulphur, crying in my ears.

Curls swirled around my grounded head, my mind swirling, my mind spinning, my body moaning and aching with pure, bloody exhaustion.

Sparrow's palm screamed against my ragged wound.

_Roar._

_Scream._

_It couldn't have been real._

_It couldn't have been._

_It can't-_

"Where de hell is it, eh? I don't see-"

"Calm down, Barbossa," Circe's voice was like a stream, gurgling past, calm and free and just completely light, so odd, so strange, so out of place against the black dust, the bleak horizon, the quiet wind and Barbossa's screams, his face an ugly twist before her, "You're shouting is not going to sol-"

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? Why you-"

"Shouting is not going to help-"

"Everythin- de legend said-"

"I know-"

"Where are de wild forests, Lily?" He was furious and for a moment, Sparrow stopped in his tracks, just a few away from Circe's back, the dust drifting over our black boots, Sparrow's sweat mixing with my sorry blood, his fingers so reassuring among my own, Barbossa's voice ragged, torn with vile rage, "De streams, de plenty fruits, de green fields and tall mount'ains-"

"I never said that."

"YER SAID-"

"I never said anything, Hector," there wasn't an emotion in her voice, not a creepling emotion, but Sparrow stayed where he was, staring at Circe's flawless back, his fingers tight around my own, not carrying about my blood, not carrying about my torn flesh, my head heavy and spinning and twirling like a red-and-white Barber's pole, "You are only listening to the legends-"

"WHERE IS IT, CIRCE?" his eyes were glints of gold, of ugly gold, piercing through the blue, teeth gnashing like fangs; he was irritating, that much I could say, and desperate, desperate enough to shoot at me again, to shoot Sparrow or at least try to shoot Circe. Veins were bulging beneath the shadow of his large hat, his plume fluttering in the wind, his claws ragged blue at his hips; it was ugly and infuriating, like a cranky old man who didn't get things his way. He reminded me of my Grandpa, in the few years before he died; he was furious and showing it, yelling as loud as he could, trying to prove his dominance by volume. His grey-blond hair crashed against the dark blue, wild like a flapping flag, knuckles white with knots, lips twisted thick.

Of course, my Grandpa never had a gun.

One he was willing to shoot at me, anyway.

Before me, a meter away from the two, Sparrow spoke, his voice low, a drawl, his fingers tight around mine.

"Hector, quit shoutin'," he mumbled, a weariness, a strain, stretching through his voice, "Yer becoming bloody annoying." His fingers were tight among mine, blood, hot, horrid blood gliding between our skins; at his word, at his soft words, Barbossa snapped his head up towards us, narrowed his glinting eyes, and with a march that boomed through my thrumming skull, knocked past Circe and stomped towards us, dust fleeting behind him in a trail of whispy black in the blue.

"Den yer ask her!" he snarled, lips twisted as he stopped in between Circe and us, pointing a jagged, furious finger back at her, his face completely screwed up, his teeth gnashing, hair whipping in the blue, "Ask her den!"

"Ask her what?"

"Ask her where it is, yer grub!"

"Barbossa, maybe you would want to calm down…" I spoke, my voice trailing but I couldn't help but flinch, flinch like a pathetic little girl as Barbossa shot his yellow eyes away from Sparrow and onto me like razor bullets; he could reach down, reach down right now, take out that long gun and shoot me right in between my eyes-

"Don't yer tell me to calm down, yer filth-"

"Barbossa-"

"Look around yer!" he threw his hands up in the air and I flinched again, and like a little child, I shuffled a little behind Sparrow, my eyes wary of his bulging face, of his sharpened teeth, Sparrow's fingers tight in my own blood and pain, "What do yer see, huh? What do yer-"

"Well-"

"Nothing, dat's what it is- Nothing! No damn trees, no damn fountain-just dis cliff, dis spiteful, filth-scrubbing, god-cursing-"

"That's because we are not on Boinca."

For a moment, no one said a word.

And then, through the roar of the distant waves, through the howling of the cold wind and the drifting dust, all eyes fell on the person had spoken last, on the person whose voice rang in our heads like a bell, never forgotten, loud and clear.

Circe.

She was standing, silent, her face to us now, her dark hair trickling along her back, wavering in the cold, chilling howl; she was staring right at me, her dark hands clasped before her tight, her beautiful face serene, calm, blank and without a single trace of emotion. Her full pink lips were parted slightly, her lashes fluttering dark and in the azure world, in the faded azure, under the watchful gaze of the sad faint moon, her eyes were dark, hard, like granite stones, as black as the dust at our feet. Her blue dress, pale silk in the gloom, fluttered against the sapphire horizon.

Something black stuck out behind her, far in the distance.

The wind howled.

The waves moaned.

My heart froze.

_No._

_No._

_Wait_

_She didn't just say that, did s-_

"Yer jokin'," It was Barbossa who spoke first, who broke the silence, the dreadful silence like a hammer against a perfectly foggy world; his voice was quiet, silent, like a raging sea put to rest, put to the test by a scorching sun, a wild horse pulled tight on the reins. His fingers were loose at his side, his plume fluttering and for a moment, I would have sworn that all the anger in the pirate's voice had melted away into a hopeful cackle, a hopeful need for humour, for Circe to jump and scream "GOT YOU!"

A hopeful plea.

A vain plea.

There, standing in front us, like a potrait, dark hair whispering through the blue, Circe spoke calmly, her voice blank, her dark, dark eyes fleeting towards Barbossa's turned face in a quick black dash.

"Does it look like I have the time to joke around, Hector?" a sternness had crept into her voice but the lightness, the oddness, the usual water-like sound about her voice echoing across the fleeting black sands, her face perfect and calm and simple, "Have I ever given you the impression that I was the joking type?"

"I don't-"

"I'm not joking, not even near it," she said, and with that graceful, feline elegance, with that strange polish, turned her callous eyes back towards me, my heart unmoving, dead , in my chest, "In fact, what I have said is the most honest thing since our reunion- so, yes. I speak the truth. We are not on Boinca."

Once again, there was a silence.

A deep, turning, heart-whirling silence.

_Insane._

_This was insane._

_That, or some of trick._

_Maybe Circe decided to grow a humour now, today, of all days…._

_But it was impossible, wasn't it?_

_Why would she lie?_

_Why?_

_How could this not be Boinca?_

_How could this not be the Fountain of Youth?_

_How?_

_What on earth-_

Sparrow spoke.

"What do yer mean dis ain't Boinca?" his voice was tight now, emotionless and below, between us, I could feel his fingers go dead in my own, lifeless in my very own blood, swirling against my ragged wounds, "Yer said-"

"I lied," she said simply enough, face blank, voice still and the moment she said it, the moment her voice echoed across the dust, across the empty black, across the howling blue, I felt my blood begin to roar, my stomach turning into a thick, horrid note.

_Lied._

_She lied._

_She fucking lied._

There was silence, dreadful silence, clinging, suffocating silence for a few more before Sparrow opened his mouth to speak, his face hidden from me, his shoulders squared, his back a razor bloody sharp.

"Why would yer-"

"You promised!" It came out of a shriek, a wild shriek and with a fling of fingers and spatter of red hot blood, I threw my hand out of Sparrow's and marched a few steps forwards, my thighs itching to run ahead, my fingers dying to grab my sword, my heart hammering, my blood boiling with growing rage. Anger, fury, bloody vehemence bloomed within me and with a few furious steps, I was standing alongside Barbossa, glaring at the beautiful figure before me, at that calm, quiet face and haunting, horrid eyes. My fists clenched over the grieving wounds.

Blood splattered through the shifting dust.

_She can't have-_

_She wouldn't-_

_Why?_

_She promised-_

I took another step forward, blood pumping, heart hammering, but Barbossa stopped me, reaching to his left with one lean arm and grabbing my own left arm, a barrier of old bones stopping me mid-chest; behind me, somewhere behind, Sparrow was silent, quiet, forgotten in my building rage.

As if he had faded away into the world.

Barbossa's voice was sharp like a whistle.

"Circe, what's de meaning of dis?" he was using her real name now, and though I tried to fight against his holding arm, though my eyes glared furiously at granite stones, the man was strong, holding me back, his voice struggling to contain his fury, cracking like severed wood, "Yer said ye would lead us to de fountain."

"I did."

"Den why didn't yer?"

"Dere are more important things den living forever, Hector."

The corner of his mouth twisted, snarled in disdain, his grip iron and horrid and cold, fingers digging through to my skin; he opened his mouth, the frown creeping back into his face, the shock dissipating, the blue squinting along the corners of the yellow eyes but I stopped him, speaking before he even had the chance.

"You promised," I spat, the bile creeping up my throat, the anger bulging, dying to push out of me, my veins like flooded rivers, my mind cold and numb and wild with meaningless bludgeoning and violent rage, "You promised, back on the island-"

"And I told you- I lied-"

"You swore," I could hear my voice cracking, but I didn't care, my fingers, my bloody fingers reaching down to my sword, my body pushing against Barbossa's freaking Superman arm, his grip torture against my skin, my chest heaving with torrid breaths, "You swore upon your life-"

"I lied, child-"

"You swore yourself to me, Circe! You pledged your service to me- you are bonded to me! Remember? You-"

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again-I lied, Joey. I lied abo-"

"Don't you remember what I said?" I was waiting, praying that she was going to start laughing any moment and scream it all a joke, my blood racing, my heart yelling, my bloody, pained fingers clutching around the cool metal, anger burning through me like a bleeding flame, "I told you…. our d-deal…."

"I-"

"I gave your freedom, and you helped me, remember? That was the deal! That was the plan! Fuck it, Circe! You _promised _to lead us to the Fountain Of Youth. You _promised _your allegiance, no tricks, no lies-"

"Yes, but I did indeed li-"

"Yeah, I know," I gritted my teeth, fighting against Barbossa's arm, staring at her cold eyes, her calm eyes, her evil eyes, my heart screaming and moaning and bleeding with rage, "You lied. You freaking lied!"

"You are naught but a mortal, child," her voice was so calm, so serene, so still, as if she was giving a lecture on the astronomical cycles of the system, her hands folded neatly, her lips full, her face perfect, "True, you are of great importance to the event that have yet to pass, but a mortal, nevertheless. A swear to you means nothing, holds no ground-"

"To some people, it actually does, you-"

"Well, not to me," she inclined her head a little and I couldn't help but long to cut her pretty little head off, to whip out my sword and slash right through her; I was mad.

I was so freaking mad.

_And why shouldn't I be?_

_She lied._

_She freaking lied._

_After a swear, after a promise-_

_But why should that even matter to her?_

_Why was I so stupid to thing that a promise would mean anything to a monster?_

_Why?_

_Why can't I just rip right through her now?_

_Why can't I just gut her heart out, shred through her and squeeze her heart right in my hands?_

_Why-_

"Why?" Barbossa was trying to remain calm but was failing incredibly, the snarl stretching across his face, his grip tight across my body, his right hand reaching down, his yellow eyes violent and furious and stormy, his fangs sharpened, "Why did yer lie then? Why did yer lead us here, wherever we might be, when yer said yer would lead us to Boinca-"

"Because a lie was necessary for you and the others to bring the Joey here, Hector," She looked at him now but only briefly, eyes dark and black and just plain horrid, my guts turning, my heart stomping, my body so sick with rage, with betrayal that I felt just like puking out all my guts, "If not for a lie, you would never even be here-"

"I don't understand-" Sparrow spoke, so quiet, so soft, so far away, that Circe easily interrupted him, not even bothering to look back at him, her eyes looking down at me, dark and haunting and just plain dead.

My mind felt like a tornado.

"I had to do what was required of me," she sounded like a commuter on a train, or on the phone machines, perfect, calm and without a single trace of life, "What was brought to me, anyway- you came to me, all of you, seeking a place I could easily find. The map was right, of course- I _can _lead you to the Fountain Of Youth-"

"But you didn't," my voice cracked, my stomach squeezed and every sense of hatred, of despair, of utter outrage flushed through my blood, boiling and spitting like streams and streams of magma, "You didn't lead us to the fountain."

"No."

"Because you're a conniving bitch-"

"Because of _you_, child," she widened her eyes a little but that didn't stop the rage, didn't stop the maddening, bringing, pulling rage, "All because of you. Don't you see it? Don't you see any of it? If it weren't for you-"

"You're talking nonsense-"

"If it weren't for _you_, Joanna May Wolfe, none of them would even be here- you told Will about Sparrow's desire to find the Fountain of Youth. You retrieved the compass, ergo me. You defeated a siren, led the ships right through the path of a daemon of fear-"

"Listen, you-"

"Don't you understand, child? This adventure…the whole time, you thought that the adventure, the battles, the fights, everything…you thought that everything led up to the Fountain Of Youth. It was what you were led to believe. It was what everyone believed."

"Except you, right?"

"Yes," She nodded, and I felt Barbossa's slacken against my chest, my eyes burning, my pit turning.

My tongue tasted so vile.

"So, instead of the Fountain, the whole thing was just leading up to a floating piece of land-"

"No-"

"Right, like I'm go-"

"When I saw who you were, back on the island, I _knew _what I had to do. I never had wanted to help you gentlemen find the Fountain, not after everything that happened between us, but then…then I saw the sword."

"I can't believe that I'm actually standing here, listening to a filthy liar."

"Don't you understand, child? _You. You _are the one. You're the one we've all been waiting for?"

"What do I like, huh? Jesus Christ?"

_I know I was being nasty._

_I know I have probably insulted about half the people in the world-_

_But I don't care. _

_I can't._

_Here I am, thinking, that after everything, after all that bullshit, that we were finally here-_

_And we aren't even close._

_We aren't even on Boinca._

_We've lied to._

_We were betrayed._

_Betrayed._

_Betrayed by Circe._

_The woman-_

_No._

_The monster._

_The monster I thought that, in some way, was my friend._

_A friend who betrayed me._

"I didn't betray you," she spoke softly a little and I almost wanted to reach forward and pummel her, to pick her up and throw her off the blue cliff, "I only did what had to be done-"

"You mean lying-"

"I had to lead you here, no matter what. It was the upmost importance, the moment I found you, my master insisted-"

"What does any of this have to do with de child, Circe?" Barbossa barked beside me, like a furious beast, his grip loosening, his right fingers held over the curve of his rifle, frustration, disdain and downright rage spitting through his voice, "Why did you lead us here, tellin' dat it was-"

"The only way I could do anything, to follow my master's orders, was to make sure that Joey arrived here, to do what destiny has designed-"

"Yer said-"

"She was with you, with the sword, and for some reason, destiny wanted it that way," she was looking at me, with those cold eyes, with those dead eyes, a part of me wishing to crumble down and cry, to scream at her, to cut her into millions and millions of little bloody pieces, "There you all came, looking for me with the map, wanting me to find the fountain and she was right there, with the sword. The heir, right in my grasp- and I knew, I knew I just couldn't stand there and do nothing-"

"So yer decided to lie," I spat, my throat hoarse, my arms sore, my fingers cold and red and pained around the gold hilt, "Instead of saying it out loud, whatever it is-"

"Would you have believed me, child? Would you have? You don't even believe me now, after everything-"

"You-"

"We needed a way to travel, and your needs for my services, gentlemen, proved a much convenient way, you see. I knew that only you, child, could get me off the island, and when that happened, I knew that I _had _to bring you here. I had to. My master demanded it. I had to listen-"

"Master?"

"You are the one, Joey, and it was my duty to bring you here, no matter the means, no matter the lies. Charades, lies all the way, to everyone, even to you-but the means are always less important then the results. No matter the how- I had to get you here, even if it meant lying to everyone-"

"Is there even de Fountain of Youth?" I though Barbossa was even more mad then me, his veins bulging again, his voice shrieking, and with a huge swing, his flung his arm away from me and gripped his hip, glaring at Circe, rage and hatred staining the blue air, his voice screaming through the cerulean skies, "Is dat part even real, eh Circe?"

My blood felt like fire in my veins.

"But of course," she nodded simply, but her eyes kept on me, focus, unreserved, bone-chilling as hell, "It's somewhere else-"

"Yer just led us de wrong way."

"Exactly."

"Lovely," and he began to rant out a line, a string of curses that I was unfamiliar with, coarse, crude words that rang thick in the air, arms throwing into the air, my mind whirling numb and cold, my body hot, my sword shivering in its sheath, my heart stomping through my ears. Sparrow was silent behind, but I didn't care; why would she do this?

Why?

_Why?_

_Why would she lie?_

_Who was her master?_

_Why was I the one?_

_Where was the fountain?_

_Why?_

_How?_

_What?_

_When?_

_Where?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_W-_

"Why?"

"Think, Joey," she looked at me and only at me, her eyes like holes carved into the abyss, black, endless, dark and dead, Barbossa ranting away beside me, the wind crying into my ear, "Use your brain-"

"Just-"

"Who was it that brought you here in the first place, Joey? Who was it that started this whole adventure for you? Who was it that picked you? Whose sword hangs at your waist? Who was it that whispered into you ear, showing you way? Who? Who, Joey? Who was it? Who is it?"

And I already knew the answer, screaming in my head, slamming against my skull, my blood racing and roaring and screeching with rage; I didn't want to say it.

_I couldn't._

_I won't._

_I shan't._

_It's not real._

_None of it._

_It can't it._

_It won't be._

_I won't accept it._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

"Balder."

A boom, a loud boom echoed through the air then, like a thunder crackling across the sky; it wasn't thunder though, for the skies were still blue, clear blue, without a single trail of cloud in sight.

It wasn't thunder.

Not thunder at all.

A second boom followed soon, and then another, and another and it grew louder and louder, booms echoing off the rolling black sands, muted in the howling wind; my head was pounding, wheeling, but I stopped, just for a moment, to listen.

It wasn't thunder.

Not thunder at all.

Without a word, without a single word, all four of us turned to our left, towards the edge of the cliff, towards the beach below and the never-ending sea; there, sitting out in the blue waters, little pinpricks of black in a palate of wondrous cerulean, azure stretching in all directions, were the three ships, like sitting ducks. Their features were indiscernible at this height, their sails like handkerchiefs, the waters deep and blue and beautiful all around them, a field of endless gems. Blue glittered in a radiant shade, the booms echoing high up into the salty-sour air-

And there were coming from the ships.

Weren't they?

The loud booms-

Drums.

Someone was hitting the drums on the ships.

Big, giant drums.

Loud drums.

Thunderous drums.

_But why?_

Somewhere behind me, Barbossa stopped his ranting, silencing the cold, cold world.

Sparrow shuffled closer to the ledge, black dust wafting like forgotten shadows, quiet and dark, silent as the world.

My heart froze.

_What was happening?_

In the distance, in the horizon, there was light; at the point, at the straight, endless line where the sky met the sea, the dark blue of the dawning world was had turned the coat of bright gold, a flaring gold, lining, piercing, grinning like a jewel's smile. Colours streaked through the sky, amber and red and pink and gold tearing through the azure like claws, beautiful like a memory, perfect like a song. Lights danced off the waves, golden light, like a washing halo, beautiful, radiant, the blue dying, the colours of the world returning back into a new day. Dark blue winked away as the shades, the true colours, the brilliant gold pierced through the horizon and into the world, the sun awaking to a sleepy earth, peeking bright, beautiful, gleaming like a thousand gems. Light refracted off water as the deep amber streaked right into the sky, purple and pink and the deepest blue, a mosaic of colours, a landscape of art.

A dawn.

A beautiful dawn.

A most beautiful dawn.

_The sun was awake._

And with the dawn came Lord Errol and his fleet.

**Oh right! So that's it so far! Hoped you guys liked it!**

**Please review me on how to improve this fic and what you guys feel about it! I would also like to apologise if you find any grammatical errors- I did this in the night and so, I'm pretty wiped out. Also, I would love to thank everyone of you who have been giving me reviews. Thanks, guys. Really. XD**

**Anyway, until next time!**

**XOXO**


	47. Another's Author's Note

Hey guys,

I know you guys are waiting for the next chapter, so I'm sorry to say that it may take a little while more. This is an especially hard chapter to write, and I haven't even gotten started on it….

Well.

I'm sorry, really. My finals are coming up and they are all just killing me. I promise, however, that I will start writing by this weekend. So sorry about this.

On another note, I need to ask the general readers if you guys want a sequel. Truth is, I can just end the story in a few more chapters. I also want to get started on my own original work. However, the sequel in my head has such an interesting plot….

Anyway, please review me and or send me a message on what your opinion is on the matter; should I finish the story up or continue on with a sequel? Your opinions are extremely important, guys, so please, please send me anything that you can. Once again, thank you so much for reading my stuff. It means a lot to me. Thanks!

Seeing you around,

Athena43


	48. Red Dawn

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Well…here it is…I'm not so sure about my description of the first part, though. I have been following all of your advice and trying to cut down on my descriptions. Its also a little arty, and quite morbid…but yeah…I hope its good enough. **

**Anyhow, here it is guys…and well…. by the end of this one…let me just go get my helmet and bulletproof vest…**

**Chapter 45: The Red Dawn**

_Crunch._

His eyes went wide, white, the grey sphering out among the orange flesh, muscles ridging stiff along the jaws…

And then, he just fell away, down on his back, the silver blade pulling out of the flesh like a perfect slick, his light weight crashing down against the black wood like an aimless feather, his head knocking back in completely senselessness. His cheeks wobbled as he crashed home, his lips parted open like a dark hole, and his eyes were wide and glazed, staring up at the dawn sky, red blood flicking into the cold air like drops of rain, thick and clear and sweet as mirth.

Warm splattered my face.

He moaned.

"Joey!"

The blade rose, red sliding down the slim glowing edge, the dawn bloody and pure, footsteps like thunder, gunshots like stabs-

And then I drove it through his heart, cutting through vein, through blood, through tissue, through bone, through the thick blue coat and the curly white wig and wide grey eyes, staring up at that bloody dawn. His breath gasped, his bone crunched…

And then he was dead.

Just like that.

Nothing more then one of the other corpses, crucified against the black deck, eyes dead and gone up into the jagged sky, fingers lifeless, breath gone, the blood pooling out from his chest and around the blade, staining dark against blue of his coat, his sprit gone and lost forever. The grey in his eyes sank into white as the last of his breath whispered out of his lips like a wind in the bangs, his very life smiting away into the red skies...

And I just stood over him.

Watching.

Looking.

His murderer.

His conqueror.

He laid there, a soldier, one of so many, a son, a brother, dead upon the black woods, my sword sticking out of his chest like a conquered flag, the blood spilling over the gold buttons, the hand white against the black of his death, his-

_I've done it again._

_I've killed-_

_**Down.**_

I threw myself down, down upon the cold corpse, against the slick wood and boiling blood-

And the soldier sliced through the air, his rapier cutting against the orange skies like a silver horizon, missing my flinging damp hair by inches. Metal whizzed above like a passing plane, a hiss of death, and then a yell stormed above, above the rolling footsteps, above the clanging metal, above the wild banging shots and screaming cries. His shadow loomed above from behind, his weight unbalanced as I missed his blade and dived all the way down, onto the bleeding corpse, just as the voice had said.

Just as Balder said.

It was a blur, but I knew I had seconds; his shadow was cold, a patch of black against the ruddy sky, my eyes staring down against the cold, white flesh and bubbling blood, the blade hissing through the air-

So I turned, on my back, on that blue coat and lifeless cold flesh and kicked the man over me, heaving my toes under his ribs and throwing him over in a painful scream. Muscles shrieked with horrid pain and I had no idea how I did it; he just flew, a shadow darting above the crimson skies, a black abyss, my knees buckling, my ankles twisting as they kicked him over me like a freaking football. His rapier clang down onto the floor beside me as he flew, and flew and flew and flew….

And crashed into the wooden barrier behind me like a lumbering giant.

My head ached.

"Joey!"

There wasn't time.

There wasn't time to think.

There wasn't even time to breathe.

With a loud grunt, I pulled up, tearing my back away from the bloody corpse, the thick leather bodice strapped around me like a chaff, a bridle of iron hugging my aching, panging chest; in front of me, the crowd swirled, bodies churning, grey and blue and silly black hats, silver rapiers dancing in the air in horrid loud clangs, the snap of pistols reaching high into the bleeding skies. Men scream out at every interval, flesh rippling, blood spilling, utter carnage on every plank of wood, soldiers and pirates fighting, killing at every turn. Black cannons darted through the air, smashing woods, masts, the giant black sails of the _Black Pearl_ drooping down like a dark shadow, splinters and blood sprinkling through the air, darts of poison, screams a-curl. Footsteps boomed like thunders, screams and cries and utter war….

But there wasn't time.

There wasn't time.

There wasn't time to stop and smell the blood.

With a deep breath, I turned away from the battle, from the waging war on the planks of the _Black Pearl_; before me, lying beyond the dead body of his comrade, the chubby soldier was slowly climbing back to his feet, splinters of broken, rotten wood fluttering off his stained blue coat, his little hat straying to floor as he wearily struggled upwards. His face was stained with pain, his eyes downward, his thick chest heaving up and down as he pulled to his knees among the rubble and reached down for his holster-

And my sword was just there, sticking out of that young man's corpse, a tall tower, glowing soft against the crimson day.

The wind bristled against my naked neck.

My hair felt damp on my shoulders.

My heart was still.

Quiet.

Dead.

_I have to do it._

_He's going to shoot-_

_**Kill him.**_

My bleeding fingers shot out, like bullets, and the gold hilt was warm, fiery, rushing through my blood like streams and streams of light, waking me, shaking me, running through me like a bolt of pure energy, a beautiful and wondrous fire-

_**Kill him, before he kills you.**_

The sword was just a silver streak, sharp like a fang, whirring, glowing across the bloody skies-

_**Kill him.**_

And tore across the soldier's chest, ripping through his coat, his buttons, his very skin; blood, hot, boiling blood blinded, streaked, a tear of red slashing across the wood, silver point digging deep into wet and hot and pure red-

And he just went down, crumbling against the wet wood, groaning as the blood pooled, as my sword trailed away from his plump body, dripping raw blood, straying flesh, his face falling flat, his lips tearing a scream, his entire body invalidated and then-

And then…

And then…

And then, I just looked away, away from the horror I had created, away from the brutality that was me.

He was dying.

The other, dead.

All because of me.

_Because of me._

The sword was just dripping at the side, thick with rolling red, with horrid, foul blood, dripping down onto my boots, slow, languid, loud and clear in the back of my head.

The wind was cold, so cold against my skin, terribly cold, glazing over me like a sad lullaby, moaning in agony, the medicine man's eye crying in my ear, begging me to stop.

My heart was pounding like drums, far away drums echoing in deep, deep waters.

My breath howled in my ears.

The world was black.

And red.

The world was black and red.

_And I can't feel._

_The blood is dripping from my hands._

_The bodies are just lying there, pale and unmoving._

_The screams are tattering through the air-_

_And yet, I can't feel._

_I can't even feel a wink._

_It's like staring at a potrait, a world that was not mine._

_An outsider, looking in, watching the war, the battle, hearing the screams of wind, the cries of the man, the last breath of dying souls reaching high up into the perfectly sculpted bleeding skies._

_A simple by-stander, a spectator, analysing, completely objective, watching a scene of events with a care-less, casual eye-_

And yet, they were there, right in front of me, lives that I just taken.

Blood that I had shed.

_Souls gone forever._

For a moment, I just stood there, upon that plank, dripping sword at the side, staring down at the two men, at the soldiers, at the lives I just taken. The blood pooled, thick and rich and red, red like roses, like weathered roses, seeping through the cracks, moving languidly towards me, reaching up in vengeance, cold and completely dead-

And then, I looked up.

Beyond me, beyond the corpses, beyond the blood and glowing sword and cracked skulls, beyond the world of ash grey skin and lifeless eyes was a ship.

No.

Not a ship.

Ships.

A fleet of ships.

Big ships, beautiful ships, giant wooden ships, were scattered in every other direction, large vessels, beautiful, daunting against the crimson skies. They were everywhere, on every corner, large shadows in the waking world; there had to be at least 10 of them, sitting upon the red waters, big, beautiful monsters, reaching high up into the whiplashed sky, like skyscrapers shadowing everything in their path. White sails stretched the skies, giant canvases of pure cream, waving above, tall and magnificent like old castles, flapping and wavering, so pink and red and bloody in the morning of the day. Ropes hung down in thick black tendrils, hundreds and hundreds of lines, their buckles glistening gold in the strange light, shining like a million stars in the red night. Union Jacks flapped high above, and trumpets sounded somehow, somehow abroad one of those decks; they were huge, easily huge, none as big as _The Flying Dutchman_ but massive, giant towers of painted gold and green, perfectly carved wood spiralling about in gentle curves and high arches, firm and strong and so wondrously stunning in the faint gold of the rising sun. Water, streams and streams of red waters flowed down their sides, glistening like waterfalls of blood, so red they were in the light of the dawn, almost so as the sails above. Everything was carved perfectly, smoothly, elegant and strong, giants of wood sitting in the waters, in the bloody waters, a sight to behold right before my eyes. Strong, beautiful monsters, each and every single one of them, and-

And full of men.

Full of soldiers.

On every one of those decks, on every one of the beautiful, glistening decks were soldiers, blue coated navy officers in their funny little hats, rifles a-ready, bayonets sticking out into the sky like daggers of red, ready for battle. Yells and orders flew over the crimson waves, as bodies rushed about everywhere, jumping onto boats, hats flying, coats flying, cannons tearing out of those elegant holes and aimed right at us, coursing over my heads, hitting wood, hitting sail, destroying, smoking, smiting us to ruin-

And that's when I saw him.

For just a second.

For a pathetic, little second.

He came swinging in, just like some of the other soldiers, a blue coat with his funny hat torn off his head, his brown hair loose and wild in the red wind; he was on one of those ropes from the naval ships, swinging over in with his comrades like a monkey, completely agile, completely fast, head last, boots first…

And right into me.

I hadn't seen it coming, or at least not with enough time to react; before I could blink, before I could breathe, the most horrible pain hit against my chest, like an axe cutting through my very rib cage. It was like a giant, black cannonball, a force so strong, so unbreakable, was hitting me right in the middle, pushing against me with all its wit and strength…

And of course, I went flying.

It was just a blur of grey and blue, of red skies and thick blood, of strong force and harsh pain, of howling, tearing wind, and then, I was hitting back against solid wood, pain blinding me in momentary stupidity. My entire head rattled as I hit back against the floor, my back slamming down onto the ground with so much force, my very bones screaming as my body crashed down onto the wood with all its strength. My eyes squeezed shut as the pain blinded me, confused me, my teeth jarring against one another as the agony tore through me, the ache like a fires rushing through each and every of my vessels.

I could taste blood.

With a loud, pain-wrenched cry, I opened my eyes, tearing my eyelids apart, withering in the ache; all I could see was the red dawn….

And legs.

Thousands and thousands of legs.

Bodies were scuffling over me, tripping over me, kicking me, a stampede of people fighting their battles, swords swinging high, bullets wild, legs and feet hitting against me, stepping on me, blood and bodies all around me, haunting every sight. My hair was damp with blood, heavy with it, wherether it was mine I couldn't tell, thick and sticky, the medicine man's eye weighing down in a tangle, pulling at the edge of the bandana. The back of my head felt heavy and thick, covered with pricks and pricks of horrifying jolts of pain. Every bone in my body seemed to ache.

I could really taste blood.

With a weary groan, I reached up a few bloody, sore fingers and ripped off the bandana, letting my curls loose, letting my head moan in relieve as the tension flooded away, the strain releasing its hold on me, the bandana flicking away into the crowd of legs. It was as if I was having the biggest brain-freeze in the entire existence of mankind, and the legs….

The legs weren't helping, hitting at me then, and another over there, my body doubling over in writhing pain, heels and toes unconsciously kneeing my stomach, my face, blows coming in every direction, feet stepping on my chest, my stomach, a confusion of limbs and blood and dead ones-

_**Get up.**_

Right.

Of course.

Battle wasn't a place to take a nap.

With a last thick breath, I winced, ignoring the pain, clouding it away, and with gripping, bleeding, ruin fingers pushed down against the wood and sit myself up, knocking away the legs, trying to avoid the kicking feet-

And then, I saw him, standing above me, a pistol aimed right at me, half his face caked in blood; it was the man that had crashed into me, the man that had swung over to the ship with the ropes, the man in the blue coat and wild brown hair, blood dripping off his jaw like slow tendrils of life. It wasn't his blood, I could see, for he wasn't hurt at all, his feet still straight, his body still strong, and in the swarm of bodies, in the verge of fighting blue and black, of screaming men and bleeding flesh, he stood out against the red sky like a beacon, gold buttons still glistening, his chest heaving in and out with every single breath of the fresh red air.

And his gun was just pointing at me.

A black hole, staring right at my forehead.

I couldn't breathe.

_This is it._

_This is it._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to pay for my murders._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm really going to die._

The thumb cocked over the trigger, the metal clicked, the barrel glistening in the red skies.

_I'm going to die._

His hair was wild behind him, a storm of brown, his arm shaking tight and nervous.

_I'm going to die._

His eyes were hard and cold and-

_I'm dying._

And afraid.

_BANG._

I shut my eyes, glued them tight, not wanting to feel the pain, not wanting to feel the end of my life, not wanting to see it coming towards me, ripping me away, ending my pitiful existence-

And I wasn't dead.

I wasn't dead.

_I'm not dead._

With a loud gasp, I opened my eyes, wide and afraid, and there, above me, the man still stood, pistol still aimed at me, face hard and ready and alive-

And a bullet, lodged right in his head.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, face unchanged, pistol still aimed, blood dripping off his jaw-

And then, he fell, like a log, dead the moment he hit home, falling face first, his breath gone, his eyes dead and asleep forever more.

He was dead.

Just like that.

Just like that.

I stared at him, stared at his crippled body, at his abandoned gun, at his streaming red forehead, staring at his empty corpse amidst the tangle and mesh of stepping and kicking feet, amidst the flying bloods and dead pale skins-

And then, I was being hoisted up, pulled by the arm, practically lifted off the ground, off the battlefield of feet, without a say in the world. I was just carried, and then my feet touched home and there, right in front of me, towering like a giant that he was, tall and proud and probably the handsomest thing I had ever seen in so long, was Lestrade, his thick hands clamped on either sides of my shoulders, a large pistol pressed in one of them.

My heart sprang to life.

"Lessie!" I screamed, the smile springing to my lips, my chest heaving in pure liberation, the ache, the pain, the spinning head, the numbing horror all dissipating as I stared up at his familiar face, at his blue eyes, at his ruddy skin and large shoulders and pure simple him, "You have no idea how glad I am to see you!"

"What on earth yer'll be doin' down dere, Miz?" he had to yell to be heard, but there was no sweeter sound then his voice, his bulging figure a tower in the swirling mess, tips of rapier creeping into my vision, gunshots echoing in every direction. The battle swarmed all around, men fighting, men dying, screams of agony, of pure horror, of blood spitting on very side, shoves and pushes and murder, murder, murder-

And Lestrade, standing before me, tall, giant, looking down with a sweaty gleam, tired, clear eyes, and blood, splatters of blood all about his broad, hairless face. His white shirt was stained with splotches of blood too, thick, red blood, fresh, his, or his victims, I really didn't know for he was there, standing in front of me, a familiar face, a grateful face in a sea of endless death and destruction. Blood scattered around, and a gunshot echoed off in my ear, followed by a terrible, terrible scream-

"Yer could have been killed! What were yer thin'king?"

"Well, someone has to clean up the floor!" I shouted back, for no utter reason then to smile and say something, to be alive, to feel alive-

_**Look out.**_

My fingers pulled Lestrade down with me, crouching our backs over-

And then a cannonball, the size of my head, flew over our shoulders, smoking and hot, knocking through the battle, through the crowd, through the carnage, tearing through wood and cloth and skin and blood, skidding against the grounds and shooting though the crimson clouds, whirling and loud, a stab right through my heart.

My hair whizzed at its movement, the medicine man's eye chiming, screaming as the wind rushed.

My lungs ceased to breathe.

_Oh, god._

_Oh my fucking god._

" Did you see that?" I screamed, a maniac smile dancing about me, pulling upright again as my eyes traced the cannon, the black ball of metal as it sailed over the wooden barrier and onto the other ship, destruction in its very wake, bodies flying, "We almost died!"

"I'm beginning to think dat yer likin' all of dis, Miz," Lestrade shouted at me as he shrugged off my bloody fingers and stared at the flying cannon as well, breathing raggedly, his pistol clamped hard in his hand, the blood trickling down his apian forehead, about his black studs of hair, the crowd tearing and screaming, blood everywhere. My own breath was ragged, but there was an euphoria to me, a sick euphoria, my tongue thick with blood, my heart racing with every excitement.

Excitement.

For some reason, I was excited.

"No," I shook my head, trying to hold back my laughter, staring up at Lestrade's weary eyes, the smile just ripping through my body, my voice shouting just to be heard over all the carnage, "This is just a coping mechanism! Trust me, five minutes, and I'll be crying like a baby!"

To this, Lestrade just screwed up his face at me, and then, with an atomic elbow, faced off the guy behind him, knocking the soldier out before he could even raise his rapier. He screamed out and with a sort of dramatic flair, crashed to the ground with a loud thud-

And then, a hot pain seared through the side of my hips, like a lance of fire, tearing through leather and flesh and blood, pounding against my shuddering veins. A spasm, a fit clawed through my very being-

And then, I was clutching the side of my right hip, staring down at the broken leather, at the torn edges; it was a bullet wound, but a mere graze, really, the thick brown leather having knock it off its target, a deep scratch against the edge of my hips. Muscles spammed and numbed around the jagged leather, my entire side freezing in shock-

I looked up.

It was one of those soldiers, skinny, tall, dark brown eyes, an simple, military pistol tight in his white hand, his other reaching down for his long rapier, crimson in the bloody skies-

_Fuck._

_I need to find my sword._

**88888888888888888888888**

It's funny, isn't it, how much things can change in a matter of months.

One moment, you could be something, entirely that something, your very existence that something, your only world that something.

Nothing else could matter to you, for that something was you, and you were that something.

You were something.

You were you.

And then, before you could even breathe, that something went away, and you become another thing.

A completely changed thing.

A completely different creature.

You were doing things that that something wouldn't do, acting in a way that that something would never have done.

Your very existence, your identity fades away and leaves behind a pale, cold, naked….

Something else.

In a matter of two months, I had become something else.

_Boom._

My feet thundered, falling down onto the slick wood like heavy rocks, the thin, oily rope slipping out of my bloody fingers as my body slammed down against the deck, my knees giving in to my weight. The impact vibrated up my bloody thighs like a shudder as my knees buckled down into a crouch, the rope flapping high above, my fingers trailing down to my side; before me, the bodies lay, as it had back on the _Black Pearl_, scattered hands and slick blood crunching beneath my weight like crackers, poking against my soles. Blood squished beneath my heels.

The air rang foul.

The wind was too sweet.

_Boom._

Up above, the skies were still red, bloody red, the clouds hanging a low orange, the peeks of gold and blue streaking through the ruby highs, glistening like a dawn, refusing to grow. Sails, pale sails flapped torrid red and gold, like banners of the carnage, pulling and taunting in the morning wind, ropes swinging back and forth, buckles chiming into the wayward skies. Giant parchment flapped like distant flags, lost and loose, wild and untamed; it was all red, all a faint, tired red, singing high up into the morning skies, splintered wood piercing like swords into thick flesh. Wind whispered red, like soft reeds playing in the far distance, laughing among the sails in a melancholy tune, mocking, chuckling, sinister and cold and red like the rivers that ran all around me. Emaciated howls cried in my ears.

My throat was dry and coarse, like rough sand, or hot rocks upon a deserted beach.

My hair was damp and red, sticking against my skin, warm and heavy with blood.

My body was numb with pain.

_Boom._

_Boom._

My sword was a glowing red.

_Boom._

Before me laid the same scene, the same bloody scene, the same gut-tearing scene; bodies and blood and pure slaughter stretched on every corner, on every plank of the _Flying Dutchman, _silver swords and raining gun-shots, a bloodbath, a massacre, a tearing violence, a brutal war, dancing before me, waving like a flag. There were no interjections, no breaks, no pauses; just swirling bodies and collapsed torsos, fresh, red blood splitting through the air, heads flying, guts screaming, the gun shots booming into the world as loud as the cannons that tore away below. Bodies toppled and screamed, the writhing cries of men shrieking into the morning breeze, cracking bones and spilling guts and rushing, red waves-

_And death. _

_Cruel, sick death._

_There's no mercy._

_There's no thought._

_Just plain-old-butchery, at every corner, at every sight, a slaughter house of pirates and soldiers, pain redundant, blood callous, myself stuck right in the middle of it-_

_**Look out.**_

And then, just like that, the whole world was on fire.

The air rushed, hot and fiery, and the entire planet seemed to have tilted on its axis, the very gravity shifting beneath us; it was so sudden, so sudden that I couldn't do anything as the force knocked me off my feet and shot me back against the wooden barrier, the entire floor tilting upwards, nails and bolts shrieking with the impact. Ropes crashed and the red sails screamed as the entire world shook like an earthquake, the scene giving way to simple lines, the wood kicking and lamenting and creaking as my body hit back against the barrier, the masts quaking, the bodies falling back, heads turned up, the massacre halting as the entire world quivered like a giant tremor-

And the sword burned like fire against my jagged fingers.

A man screamed out in death's grip.

_Lovely._

_Just plain lovely._

Before me, beyond the bloody sails, beyond the rushing bodies, beyond the sliding feet and upturned faces and cold, glazed, bloody eyes, was a storm of fire.

Red hot fire.

It was as if the world had exploded right in front of me, red and gold and pure fire streaking through the sweet wind, reaching up into the red skies, tearing out like claws, so bright, so hot, shooting out in a radiant of blaze. It was an inferno, a bright inferno, blasting upwards in glazing red, bloody red, the air sizzling, hissing, pushing forth, heat thrusting towards us, towards me, like a wave of deep, black kicking fire. Light loomed like a giant shadow, flying upwards in streaking flames, erupting so high, so big, so very hot….

A black cloud topped the very edge of the billowing flames, bulging up and down, black over the toasting flames, the conflagration scorching high up into the air, blocking out the red skies, the shivering clouds. It was like an atomic bomb, the black, black clouds swearing around the tearing conflagration, bursting, riveting, hot air and dark smoke rushing against one another, banging heads, the air crisp and bitter and bright with heat. Hot air, like tongues and tongues of licking flames, tore through my skin as debris scattered through the sky, wooden stakes, black parchments, shooting out of the blaze like thousands and thousands of bullets, smoking wood, torching wood, ashes, embers raining down, streaking the sky, heat and light roiling over the red waves, touching everything, destroying everything. Hot wind screamed against my very skin.

It sounded like the whole world had just cracked into two.

_What happened?_

_What the hell just happened?_

_Was there a bomb-_

_No._

_This is the 18__th__ century._

_There are no bombs now._

_Not here._

_Bombs haven't been invented yet._

_Or have they?_

_I mean, there's already gun-powder, and dynamite, I'm su-_

There were hands, rough, coarse hands, digging into the leather, grabbing at my loose sleeve-

And then, I was flying, flying off to the side, my entire body being pulled off the wooden barrier, wet boots slicking over the hot blood, body, thoughts completely numbed, dashing through the flickering hot dust, eyes wide at the swelling flames and choking smoke, and red, red skies-

_CRASH._

It was a chunk of blackened debris, a huge chunk, a giant chunk, the berth of a broken mast, sails and all, raining down in shrieking flames, red hot fires howling with joy all over its blackened body, dancing like a manic, black sails flapping in the wind, screaming, rabid, a giant shadow in the flaming skies…

And crashing down against the wooden barrier, at the exact spot where I had been only moments ago.

It broke through the wood, through the entire barrier, tearing through the sky and wood and falling, falling down into the deep waters, obliterating everything in its path, destroying everything. Men knocked out of its way as it crashed through the wood and down into the sea, disappearing in an inferno of flames, crackling through the red, red world…

And had I been there, for just another second, I would have gone with it, smashed into smithereens by the torching wood, pushed down into the bloody sea like another of those careless bodies, the smoke trailing in our wake, the sea crashing below as it took us both into its crimson folds, my entire body, my entire being lost forever in those rolling depths. I would have been torn, destroyed, taken by the flames, killed indefinitely by the falling, giant debris of smoking flames.

I would have died.

Had I been there for just another second, that is.

For a moment, I just stood there, back against the wet steps, staring at the trail of black smoke, listening as the waves crashed below, debris falling, raining down, the air hot and stifling, sweet and raw with burnt, black wood; my heart was panging but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears, the low, distant ringing, my eyes watching as the black smoke sang up into the air, the white sails flapping high above, the splintered wood drizzling, black and hot and cracking like a thousand bolts-

And then Sparrow spoke, his voice like a low slither in the red dawn.

"Yer completely useless, aren't yer luv?"

He was standing beside me, tall and lean, one of his snaky dark hands tight around the cuff of my sleeve, the gold rings glinting like winking eyes, watching with earnest humour. His other hand was slack against the small of my back, his long, tanned fingers splayed out along the leather, his swinging, beaded dark hair shivering over my shoulder, howling back against the wind. His shadow was like a dark patch over my every being; he smelt of rum, and blood, thick, salty blood, his colourful beads jingling a strange tune in the red skies, his dark eyes alert and bright with all the energy of the world. His snaky dark moustache was twisted over his lips with pure humour, his every muscle rigid and firm behind me, his fingers like iron grips…

A chunk of thick burning wood, falling at my feet, was enough to shake me out of my stupor.

"Hands off!" I pushed off him, leeching out of his gripping claws, his hot fingers, my aching body flinching away from his, my weathered, sore feet skipping over the fallen wood and my bloody, bloody arms springing to life, the red, glowing blade slashing round until it was in front of me again, right in front of my heaving chest, my wet hair dripping down the sides. My lungs felt tired, sore, \wet, the blood running down my hands, my elbows, the pain striking through my hips-

And the world moved along around me, surging bodies, crashing blood, pirates and men killing each other, ending each other, jumping around to avoid the falling debris, the smoke and flames like a bonfire toasting up to the morn.

The sword was like fire in my hands.

_Breathe, Joey._

_Just breathe._

_Just ignore Sparrow, and focus on staying alive-_

"What? No gratitude? Is dat how yer mother'll be raisin' yer?"

"Shut up, you idiot," I gritted my teeth helplessly, staring at him over the tip of my dripping red sword, his twisty mouth and dark, dark eyes, my throat hoarse, my blood hot, the war surging all around, the skies like a tearing battle scene, "I don't owe you a thing!"

"I'd reckon I just saved yer life."

"And I'd reckon you just paid me back for shipwrecking the boat and making me swim back!"

Before me, the man opened his mouth, raising a single finger, as if about to make a point-

And then, in a blur of black, in a blur of dark hat and swinging beads and hard, weathered leather, his silver rapier drew out, sticking like a dancing lance, aimed right at my heart-

And cut through the man right behind me, slashing through coat, through skin, through flesh, through blood, invalidating him, roiling him over onto the blood-slicked floor-

_**To the left.**_

Without another word, I whirled around, and cut off the soldier off to the left, my glowing hot blade ripping through the gold buttons, slashing up through his torso, from hip to shoulder, hot blood splattering up into the red air, my feet kicking against a stray, burning debris, my body moving, ignoring all pain, all blood, all feeling whatsoever. He fell down as well, eyes glazed as he dropped like a log-

But it wasn't over.

Far from it.

There was another of his comrades behind him and the next thing I knew our blades were meeting in the air, red and red dancing high up into the musky dawn, metal ringing in thick, loud clangs. His little hat bobbed up and down as he swung and hit, and my body moaned, cried, my muscles screaming as I fought to keep up with him, blocking his every edge, his every cut. My sword was light but he's seemed lighter, quicker, a sleek of metal, a sliver of light, a dangerous needle, graceful and elegant, quick enough to impale-

_**Block your right.**_

Our blades met in a loud, unearthly clang, ripping through the air, tearing through the world, eyes wide and scared, fighting for survival, fighting for-

_**Now, guard your low left.**_

I dove, and he dove, and we met again, the metal kissing together in utter violence, blood meeting blood, the air sizzling and crackling with the pounding heat-

_**He's going for you feet-**_

I jumped, and the blade missed me completely, sweeping over the blood-slicked wood, a silver blaze, my heart caught in an entirely different world, my damp hair flipping up into the hot air, the sword hot and alive in the nook of my palm-

_**Pay attention to your right.**_

There was another one of those blue coats, coming at me, swinging his long bayonet, taking aim to shoot, Sparrow's yell far off in the distance-

_**The boxes.**_

My feet moved, before my arm even could, and then I was running, running away from the soldiers, my booted feet lifting off the ground, my sword burning in my hand, as if it was nothing more then a part of me-

And I began to dance, to jump, running up the trail of crates and boxes, dashing through the hot air, through the black smoke, running towards the red skies, towards the red seas, towards-

_**The rope.**_

I threw myself at it, pushing off the edge of the wooden aisle, leaping out into the waters, into the red air, my fingers reaching forward, grabbing aimlessly, hopelessly-

And tightly around the rope, bloody fingers twisting around the oily knots-

And then-

And then-

And then, I did something that I would never have done before, something that two months ago, wasn't even a dream for me.

Something impossible.

_I swung around._

I had swung across the ship earlier, but now I swung around, my entire body giving in to the rope, the _Black Pearl _looming before me, the carnage, the war, the bloody, bloody screams, the numerous faceless, the empty, gaping red waves, screaming from below, the skies above a tumult of fire and wood-

And then, I was coming back, coming back at full speed, my entire weight on my bloody fingers, my sword barely holding on to me, my feet aimless, my body soulless, my hair rushing back, my every being in the complete hands of the oily rope, my body swinging back towards the slick, crowded deck, head last, feet first, sword out, lungs screaming-

And I crashed into them, into the small crowd of soldiers that wasn't there before, hitting against hats, heads, eyes, metal clanging bones, screams of pain, screams of outrage, my body dashing through blue, through pale, my hair rushing back, my entire body screaming with pure ecstasy-

And then, just like that, I was back on my feet, the rope slipping out of my hands, my feet booming down on the wet wood with an earth-shattering boom, my lungs heaving in the hot, burnt air, the cinder, the embers, the frail wooden dust swirling around my arrival like a cushion, my heart stomping in my chest. My blood rushed like an endless river, coursing, loud and rough and so full of life-

And so was the sword, of course.

So was the sword.

For a moment, I just stood there, my head foggy, my mind dead, my entire body unconscious of what had just happened, a simple statue in a war of swirling blood, ecstasy and adrenaline singing through me like a romantic symphony.

I could barely even breathe.

_Just for a moment, though._

_Just for a moment._

"SPARROW! DID YOU JUST SEE WHAT I DID?"

I couldn't see him, not in the crowd of bodies, in the crowd of clanging metal and rushing blood and sounding pistols- but his voice echoed out, among all the chaos, his distinctive drawl thick in the smoky air, loud like crashing wood.

"Can't yer see I'm bu'sy?"

I didn't know what to say in reply.

Not really.

With a stupid smile stretching across my face, with the adrenaline just screaming through me and the sword burning like flames, I took a numbed step forward, moving my stunned feet-

And slipping me onto the blood-wet floors, down flat against the planks.

"Fuck."

A woman screamed.

**888888888888888888**

The world was blood.

Fire and blood.

To the right, beyond the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, the inferno was still raging into the air, black smoke circling above like a tenacious cloud, choking and thick, gold and red and bloody orange streaking through the red dawn, claws tearing through the morn, cruel, merciless, bleaching the sky in riveting, fiery heat, like an endless Armageddon, spewing from the mouth of the sea.

To the left, beyond the deck of the _Flying Dutchman, _the war raged like endless battle, men upon men, daggers and swords glinting high up into the bloody dawn, the gun shots singing like the waves, crashing and moaning, men screaming and howling, blood spewing over carnage, over brutality, over pure slaughter.

Up above, the sky rained with falling debris, thick chunks of wood scattering down to earth, singed and black, aflame in orange, hot and dangerous, hitting and killing without a single thought.

Down below, the ground was a chaos of blood, bodies and fire, the planks slicked thick with red, hot blood, fiery debris patterned like raindrops, careless bodies slumped over archways and wheels, fingers cold, buttons bright, guts a spewing, eyes dead.

The world was blood.

Fire and blood.

_And a screaming Scarlett._

She was standing there, at the edge of the quarter deck, beyond the helm, standing there and screaming, her red lips parted open in a terrible shriek, her pale face tainted gold by the streaking bonfire, her sleeves flapping back, her neck strained white, her eyes shut tight in gutting, pulling pain. Her screams shredded through the air with each breath, sharp and high, piercing, wrenching, digging into me like an impulse, an instinct, a horrid dread; she was a pale figure against the red dawn, against the sitting ships and firing cannons and fiery grounds, her small white face contorted, twisted at such angles, patters of blood spotting over her left cheek, grazing her long eyelashes, tears mixing with red, her mane of crimson like a tongue of flames, flipping and flapping and flinching about in the bloody skies…

And screaming.

And just plain screaming.

Just plain-

There was a man.

Standing behind her, behind her tossing figure, behind her kicking feet and flying pale sleeves, an arm strapped around her shoulder like a barrier, holding her flinching frame, her sobbing body, was a man.

A tall, pale man.

A soldier.

He wore the blue coat, the tight breeches, the navy shoes, the white wig, the bobbing hat-

And a pair of cold green eyes.

_Lord Errol._

He was just standing there, holding his daughter, holding her back, restraining against her fighting body, against her fiery hair, yelling at her over her screams, her sobs, his jaw chomping up and down as he gripped in place, refusing to let her go, let her run, let her scream out and cry and throw and do whatever had caused her to enter such as state. Her head knocking wild, her tears hot and fiery, trailing down her face like endless rivers, her screams like stabs in-

It was then that I saw him.

There, lying at Scarlett's feet, before Lord Errol, thrown upon the floor, among the fire and blood and the bodies, scattered like a forgotten leaf, lifeless and cold and-

It was Jared.

_No._

I couldn't see him, not clearly, not in the raining debris and black smoke, not clearly, not cleary enough; the quarter-deck, the helm, was empty except for them, the war raging behind, the guns sounding, the cannons booming, the-

It was Jared.

It was my brother.

_No._

He just laid there, upon the wood, upon the blood, his huge torso like a hill on the flat planks, his feet stretched out, metal toes pointing up towards the bloody skies like fingers, straight up towards the dawn. His sleeves laid flat against the wood, stained red with blood, his fingers upturned and cold, empty, a pistol abandoned just out of reach, like a forgotten doll, alone and quiet, a tale of its own. His hair was dark with blood, matted, sticking out like wild grass, his nose pointing up towards the falling fires like a signal, a flag, the cloth of his shirt stuck tight to his chest-

And he was still.

Utterly still.

Completely still.

_No._

Will was there, kneeling by his side, staring down at him, his ponytail limp behind him, his shoulders slumped, his face completely hidden, washed, his breath stirring against his leather-coated back-

_No._

Scarlet screamed.

_Please no._

And then, I was running, running for all the life in me, running with every strength in me, my lung screaming, my thighs shrieking, my every muscles protesting but I ran, ran hard, jumping over fire and blood and scattered bones, the sword swinging like a pendulum of time-

_Please._

And then he was right in front of me.

Right in front of me.

_Please._

It was Jared, and he was there, lying still, lying quiet, his head knocked back against the red wood, his neck pale and white, vulnerable to the world, vulnerable to death. He was lying flat on his back, his arms on either side, his knees straight out, his dark blonde hair covered with ash and blood, matted here and there, thick with guck, smears of red across his nose, the fire, the inferno from beyond casting a pale, gold light about him, shadows leaping at his cheekbones, his eyes shut tight-

And he was pale.

Stone cold pale.

Scarlett moaned.

_No._

"Jared?"

"He's gone, Joey."

Will was looking up at me, and I turned away from a second, for just a moment; his eyes were gazing up at me, those deep, brown eyes, those beautiful, looking up at me, wide and awake, glassy, sad, as if they were in one world, and I was in another. Blood lined his dark face, the curls matted wet upon his shoulder, his lips parted, his brow thick, and his eyes just staring up at me, clear like day, so soft, so sad….

"What?" My voice was just a whisper, a bare, naked whisper, and in the background, before me, before my brother, Scarlett's sobs were like tears through the heart, digging and grinding, piercing through my very soul. My lung squeezed tight, shut forever.

_Please, for the love of God, no._

"I'm sorry-" he began, those eyes blinking, his chest heaving, his face pained, but I had turned away, away from Will, away from everything; Jared was there, lying, still, quiet, cold, pale, his chest not even moving, his face white and fixed, a ghost, a painting-

Dead.

He was dead.

Jared was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

My brother was dead.

He was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

De-_no._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No no._

_No no._

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no-_

"YOU KILLED HIM!" Scarlett was screaming, screaming like hell, her eyes squeezed shut, her arms flailing, her voice ripping through the world, tearing it into two, pain and anguish and pure horror clawing out of her throat, her body trashing against her father's arm; I blinked, and the world collapsed back into reality, smoke and fire and blood, my throat tight and coarse, my lungs heaving in the thick black smoke, my mind whirling and whirling, turning and spinning, twisted beyond means-

_No._

_For the love of God, no._

_Please, no._

_Please._

_Please._

_Please, no._

_No._

_No no no-_

"Stop it, Scarlett-Marie!" Lord Errol was howling, pulling back at his daughter, his hands like claws, his eyes cold and hard, digging against his daughter's head, her trashing arms hitting against him, her body twisting and convulsing, her screams shredding through the world, destroying everything-

_Why?_

_Why-no…_

_No._

_No._

_This isn't-_

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No no-_

"YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED-"

"HE'S A PIRATE, CHILD! HE DESERVES TO DIE!"

"YOU-"

_Dead._

_Jared's dead._

_Jared's actually dead._

_He's gone._

_He's gone-_

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No, no no no no no no-_

"I'M HERE TO SAVE YOU-"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? HE-"

"HE WAS A PIRATE-"

"I LOVED HIM!"

_Love._

_Love._

_Jared._

_My brother._

_My brother._

_My twin._

_My only family._

_Jared._

_Jared._

_No._

_He can't be._

_He's not._

_He's not gone._

_He's not._

_He's not._

_He's not._

_He's not._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No-_

"YOU KILLED HIM!"

_**Kill him.**_

The sword moved, before I could think, before I could breathe-

And then, Lord Errol was standing there, gaping at where his right hand used to be, his stump bloody and jagged, a gaping hole, blood trailing to the floor, his hand dropping like a fat piece of meat.

I had just chopped off his hand.

Scarlett flew out of his grip, dropping like an anchor-

And then, she was sobbing over Jared, red hair falling like a stream of flames, her pale lithe arms wrapping around his torso, hugging him, grabbing him, holding him as fast as she could. Her sobs smothered away into the matted hair, Will's shadow looming over her petite form as he kneeled opposite her, staring up at me without a wo-

_**Kill him.**_

My body moved, the sword raised-

Lord Errol was screaming, yelling at me, clutching at his stumped wrist, the horror tearing across his broad face, his fingers grasping with the blood, his green eyes wide with terror-

And then, the sword was at his chin, holding against him, the tip digging in his skin, his jaw dropping in pure horror, his eyes burning with raw fear-

Scarlett's voice was a whisper in the fiery wind.

"Do it."

_SLICK._

The blood was warm against my cheek.

_THUD._

Lord Errol's body collapsed to my feet, falling like a wall of bricks, his head bouncing off in another direction, jumping over fire and blood and bodies, and-

And….

And…

And…

_Jared._

He was lying there, lying still, lying quiet, his hands palm-up, empty and cold, his entire being completely and utterly still, Scarlett sprawled upon him, crying, sobbing, screaming, anguish and despair and just plain torture, her arms tight around his lifeless neck-

_Lifeless._

_Lifeless._

_Jared was lifeless._

_Jared was dead._

_Dead._

_Completely _and_ utterly dead._

Will was walking away, marching, strong, long strides, his black coat flapping back in the hot wind, his dark curls bobbing with each quick step, the air sizzling and hissing, spiting and crackling, smoke blooming, thick and black, gold and orange, fire churning with all might, men screaming into the red skies-

_And dead._

_Jared's dead._

_Dead._

_Dead._

_Completely and utterly dead-_

Those eyes were closed, gently closed, the dark lashes kissing against those high cheekbones, his long nose slim and narrow, sliding cold and pale down his face, his lips cracked and dry, the gold of flickering flames torching the skies wavering about his face, like a dance, a myriad, a ballad of souls, of spirits, his skin smooth, a perfect stage-

_And gone._

_Jared's gone._

_Gone._

_Gone._

_Completely and utterly gone-_

That face was still, silent, the jaw fixed in place, the chest still as a mountain, not moving, not breathing, the hot wind rustling back that hair, that beautiful thick hair, that dark blonde hair, my hair, his skin naked and bare, longing for hands to caress, to love, the lights like a ballet, a dance, a jig, a sad tune in the bloody skies, his face, his body forever more still, forever dead-

_And it's my fault._

_Jared's dead._

_Jared's gone._

_Dead._

_Gone._

_Dead._

_Gone._

_And it's my fault._

_Jared's dead, and it's my fault._

_He's gone, because of me._

_My brother is dead, because of me._

_Because of me._

_Because of me._

The sword fell from my fingers, falling down with a clang, a low, loud clang, my knees crumbling away to dust, his face like an dream, a nightmare, his heart dead, forever dead, forever still, forever gone-

_Because of me._

_Because of me._

_My brother._

_My family._

_My only family._

_My remaining family._

_All that I had left in the world._

_All that I loved._

_My brother._

_My twin._

_Dead._

The wooden planks hit me like stone, harsh against my bones, the blood, the flesh, the blue coat of Lord Errol splattered all over me, my chest heaving in and out, my head spinning, fires shooting through the sky, my heart still now and forever more-

_Daddy._

_Johnny._

_Daddy and Johnny._

_Daddy, Johnny, and Jared._

_Daddy, Johnny and Jared._

_My family._

_My life._

_Gone forever._

_Dead._

Red hair rippled like flames, the heat pressed like a choking hands, the face peaceful and quiet, the blood dripping off the edge, slow and thick, the firelight dancing like souls of forgotten dreams, leaping, laughing, cold and empty hands, ruffled cloth, ruffled leather, lonely gun wet with blood-

_We never should have come._

_Never should have._

_We never should have._

_I never should have walked through that painting._

_I should have listened._

_I should have listened._

_He shouldn't have followed me._

_He shouldn't have._

_We shouldn't have._

_We shouldn't be here._

_We shouldn't be here._

_We can't be here._

_We can't. _

_This is a dream._

_We can't._

_This is a dream._

_This is a dream._

_This is a dream._

_A nightmare-_

It was raining fire.

"Scarlett."

His voice was like a dream, a waking dream, a sword piercing through the night, through the cold, cold night, a siren's call, deep as the currents; I blinked my eyes, my chest heaving, the blood thick all around me, hot and red, rolling about my skin in heavy rolls, the stump of flesh, the decapitated body, dripping an endless song of red and white, the tangled sandy hair whispering in the fiery dawn….

_Jared._

_Jared._

_Wake up, Jared._

_Wake up._

It was Will, walking slowly towards us, his voice deep and soft, the fires crackling, hissing, his footsteps soft pads in the clouded world; his figure solemn, dark, quiet against the black smoke, his dark coat swinging in the wind, his boots hitting against the blackened debris. The steps creaked beneath his feet, the wood blackened and bloodied, his dark curls singing in the heat, the fire roaring above, black and red, an inferno through the dawn of the day, the-

_Jared._

_Jared._

_Wake up, Jared._

_Wake up._

He was cradling something in his hand, something metallic, something that glinted in the fiery dawn- but I didn't care.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

_I can't._

Before me, Jared laid, quiet and dead, still, gone forever, his body stretched across the bloody wood, Scarlett's red hair like fire, Errol's blood dripping like the sands of time…..

_Jared._

_Jared._

_Wake up, Jared._

_Wake up._

It was a dream.

It was a dream.

It had to be.

There was no sound, no feeling-

Just a dream, a horrible dream, a grey dream, a dead dream, a dream of fire, a dream of blood and flesh and cold, dead bodies-

And Jared.

And a dead Jared.

_Jared._

_Jared._

_Wake up, Jared._

_Wake up._

White sails sang like pale lilies.

"Here," Will was standing over Jared now, his face blank, his eyes hidden, his hands tight around the metal case in his hands, his curls dancing like a forlorn ballet, "Take this." His eyes were dark, blank, his lips straight, his face lined like a canvas painting-

And his shadow fell over Jared, black as night, his footsteps like stabs, deep, pounding stabs, into the very deepest of my soul.

_Please._

In the grey of the world, Scarlett looked up, and-

And….

And….

And the world went quiet.

Dead quiet.

For a moment, all just went silent; no waves, no steps, no voices, no gunshots, no cannons-

Nothing, not the wind, not the fires, not the dripping blood-

Nothing, not my breath, not my blood, not my heart….

Just quiet.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

_Pure silence._

Jared was lying there, quietly, as if asleep, his fingers strayed in a soft dream, his lips pulled in gentle content. It was as if he was dreaming, the firelight playing along his face, dancing like a lullaby, a baby's song, the wind kissing against his bare temple like a goodnight kiss, his lashes still and silent in the world of endless dreams-

Of beautiful dreams.

Of never-ending dreams.

_He's asleep._

_He's just asleep._

_Look at him._

_He's sleeping like a baby._

_No troubles._

_No problems._

_Just endless silence, the world finally quiet, his sleep forever peaceful-_

And dead.

And dead.

Jared was dead.

Not asleep.

Not dreaming.

Dead.

A corpse among corpses-

_Dead._

Jared-

Will's hand was like a vice, a strong, thick vice-

In a matter of second, he had pulled me to my feet, his touch snapping me out of every dream, his hot skin burning against the blood like the fires above, his blazing eyes meeting mine, wild and hot and dark as night. My knees unfolded helplessly, my feet struggling up on their own as he heaved me up by my hand, pulling me, carrying me-

Until I was staring, face-to-face, blood dripping like a requiem.

"Will?" I was staring at him now, at his face, at his hard-lined face, at those dark, dark eyes-

I blinked.

"Will?"

"Promise me you will put your safety above everything else."

I just stared at him.

What on earth was he saying?

What on-

I looked over his shoulder, over his dark, singing curls, at the unmanned helm, at the rippling red hair, at the crumpled body-

_Body._

_Body._

_I just called Jared a body._

_Just a body._

_Nothing important._

_No one important._

_Just an ordinary piece of meat, a faceless body-_

"Joey," my eyes flew back to Will, to his hard face, to his blank face, my mind numb and confused and aching, just plain aching, my eyes blinking, my throat coarse, my entire being trying to fathom, trying to _understand_, "Did you hear me?"

"What?"

He was just staring at me, eyes hot, eyes wild, the flares in them bright, the brown so dark, so beautiful…

_Just a faceless body._

"I don't understand what you are saying," my voice was so soft, so soft, my lungs barely squeezing, my mind completely numb, my heart cold and still and forever dead-

Before me, just before me, standing right in front of me, Will blinked his eyes, his throat gulping, his body heaving as he took in a fresh dose of the smoky air; his eyes were like flames, like beautiful, distant flames, torching through the night, clear like a summer's day, but dark, dark as the stars, as the moon….

And alive.

So very much alive.

"Will."

It was a whisper.

Scarlett sobbed.

_Jared._

_My Jared._

He was still there, still, dead, lying beyond Will's shoulder, head turned, body pointing up towards the bloody dawn, hair tossing like pale waves-

And Scarlett was there, sprawled beside him, her red hair wild in the fiery morn, red like blood, like rivers and rivers of blood, her shoulders small, her neck pale. She was staring up at me, up right at me, her body twisted away from her lover, her green eyes cold and wet, diluted, pained, grieved, a tortured soul trapped in swirling emerald, dark, noisy. Her cheeks were wet, streaked with wet, her leather overall dabbed with bitter tears, her red lips thick and swollen, her pale, pale moonlight face red and tired, her throat choking back in agony, and-

And….

And….

And in her hand, was a knife.

It was a small knife, a dagger, crude, rough, a pirate's dagger, curved along the edge, perfect for cutting and skimming ropes, wedged in the nook of her little bloody palm, glinting against white knuckles. The blade was clean, smooth clean, a cold metal gleaming in the fiery skies, a wink in the tortured world, a star among the blood and fires. Blue veins popped along porcelain skin around it, muscles tight, pulled.

Agonized.

Tortured.

Jared just laid there, beautiful as the day, his body smooth, his hands splayed out to either side-

And touching a box.

A cold, metal box.

A metal chest.

A familiar chest.

"Will."

It was the chest, his chest, the very chest that I had found on that island so very long ago, the chest that was his, the chest that held his heart-

And it was there.

_Right there._

My lungs squeezed shut.

At the bottom of the chest, among the soft golden wood, tucked in the corner, was a human heart, bloody, fleshy-

And beating.

Beating, pounding, thumping, deep and long, sounding through the air like the booms of a drum, each beat like a stab, a horrible, deep stab, my lips, my throat dry and coarse, my head spinning in all directions, confused, tired, blood dripping from my fingers like the notes of a sonata-

Scarlett's dagger was right over the heart.

The heart in the chest.

Will's heart.

Will's heart.

Will's heart.

_Will._

My heart jumped.

"What are you-"

"Promise me, Joey!" He was yelling now, my Will, his hand gripping me again, grabbing my arm, pulling me back as I tried to make for Scarlett, to make her stop, to take that dagger from her, to grab the heart, his heart-

And his eyes were like flames, staring right at me, deep, beautiful flames, wild and strong, pulling me in, holding me, taking me away into the deep darkness, forever and ever.

And ever.

_And ever._

My heart jumped again.

"Will, what's going on?" something was happening, something that I couldn't understand, something horrible, something dreadful, something that pulled at me, a stab through the fog of mind, an alarm shooting through my very nerves, "Why is your heart-"

"Pro-"

"Tell me-"

"Joey-"

"Will-"

"I can save Jared."

A cannon boomed through the morn.

"What?"

I could barely speak.

"I can save Jared," he repeated, blinking those eyes, those beautiful eyes, his throat tight, his jaw tight, his eyes just looking into me, right into me, my body cold in his grip, frozen in his grip, all my senses knocked dead, knocked senseless, his breath like sweet honey," I can save him."

_Save him._

_Save him._

_Will can save Jared._

_Will can save Jared._

_Will can save him._

_He can bring Jared back._

_He can bring him back._

_He can make Jared alive again._

_Jared will be alive again._

_Alive again._

_Alive!_

"Save?" A sigh, a deep gasp of air breathed through me, my entire body shaking, my every nerve pointless, my heart jumping to life, pounding, breathing, a sob wrenching from my lips, "You can save him? You can bring Jared back?"

_Alive!_

_Alive again!_

"Yes." It was a nod, a simple nod, but there was something painful in it, something deep, something agonizing, his eyes blinking with wild flames-

_Alive!_

_Alive again!_

"How?" I was breathing so hard, my heart dancing, my lungs screaming, my entire body trembling with the pure thought, the pure mention-

_Alive!_

_Alive again!_

"He can take my place," Will cleared his throat, his eyes blinking, staring right at me, radiant flames torching through a night sky, his breath hot, his jaw tight, his face hard, his lips pulled tight, as if pained, "He can take my place as the captain of _The Flying Dutchman_."

_Alive!_

_Alive again!_

"What-"

"All he has to do is stab it," he was gulping now, his eyes wide, staring at me, right at me, right at my very soul, "My heart, I mean. All he has to do is stab my heart."

_Alive!_

_Alive again!_

"But he's-"

"Scarlett can direct his hand, that's all," his throat wavered, his chest heaving, his breath like summer rain, falling across the grassy plains, my body trembling, shivering, blood rushing and screaming with every hope, "It's simple. She just has to put the knife in his hand, lead it, and make it step my heart-"

"That's-"

"Trust me a little, won't you Joey?"

"Will…" my voice trailed, and a smile, a small, bare smile peeked at my lips, at the hope, at the promise, my mind spinning and spinning and spinning with pure desire, with chance, with destiny-

_Alive!_

_Alive again!_

_Jared, alive, breathing, talking, smiling, blue eyes-_

_**His heart.**_

The smile fell, like raining stars, my chest heaving up and down, my mind clicking into gear, spinning, thinking, my eyes staring at the ground, at the edge of my sword, at Scarlett's fiery mane, at Will's eyes-

Wait.

_Wait._

"Wait," I breathed, looking up at him, at those eyes, at those beautiful eyes, at those flames, those stars, those worlds of other worlds, "Wait…Will-"

"Joey-"

"If you…If Jared-Scarlett stabs the heart-"

"Then, you have to cut Jared's heart out and put it into that box, so that he will wake again, be alive-"

"What happens to you then?"

He opened his lips, and then he closed them and then….

And then….

And then….

And then, he just smiled.

A beautiful smile.

A sad smile.

_No._

"Will?"

The wind laughed.

"You know, Joey," it was like staring at a dream, a distant dream, a faded dream, his voice a requiem in the dark, his smile like a forgotten kiss, lost forever in the dark depths, "I've lived for 25 years, yet somehow it always seemed to be so much longer."

_No._

"Born a merchant's son, grew a merchant's son, became an orphaned lad…. grew up to become a fine blacksmith, the best in Port Royal, if I pray."

_No._

"Fell in love with the governor's daughter…. travelled across the seas to get her back…met pirates…became a pirate…found my father….saved my father…."

_No._

"Fought as a pirate, I did….fought hard and well….married the woman I loved….then died as a pirate, as an outlaw, a husband…."

_No._

"Became the captain of this cursed thing then…undead, as typical….a pirate captain, ghost of the seas….travelled….served….betrayed by the woman I loved…bore a son-"

"No," I was moving, moving away, my head shaking, my mind numb, my legs moving me back, my arms pulling out of his grip, away from his heat, his fiery skin, his dancing curls, his flaming eyes, my lungs tight and gasping and breathing and breathing and breathing and breathing and breathing and-

"And here I am," he was gasping too, breathing in deep, staring right at me, right at me with those blazing eyes, his voice soft, his chest heaving, his throat gulping, his body trembling with every nerve, with every touch, "at the ends of all worlds, and all I can think about is you."

_No._

"No," I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think- my mind was numb, my chest was tight, my heart was pounding and pounding and the tears were hot, my soul screaming and raging, my head shaking, not believing, not believing-

_No._

"All I see is _you_," his voice was a whisper, his eyes bright, leaping, the dark become clearer and clearer, his every tone, his every breath like whispers of the clawing darkness, my feet moving, my body shaking, my head shaking side to side, the tears hot like fire, my mind pounding and pounding and pounding-

_No._

"Yes," his curls danced like a ashes in the wind, his lips dry, his jaw tight, and a tear, a big, fat clear tear gliding down through the dirt, through the blood, through the grey of the dying world-

_No._

_This isn't happening._

_It isn't._

_This isn't._

_It isn't._

_It isn't._

_It can't. _

_It can't._

_It can't._

_It can't-_

"It's the only way to bring back your brother-"

"NO!" the tears were so hot, so very hot, my mind whirling, twisting, my entire body shaking, pain tearing through my entire being, his eyes gleaming like far away stars in a dark, dark night, "No…No-"

_No._

"Joey-"

"You are not dying for him, you hear?" the words were screams, screams that were chokes, chokes that were whispers, painful whispers, every part of me crumbling, falling, turning to ash, to dust, to mere nothing, to absolutely nothing, "You can't-"

"I'm not dying for _him_," his tear was streak of orange in black and red, his eyes glassy, clear, bright as the very world, as the very whisper, "I'm not-"

"Then, shut up-"

"You need your brother-"

"I _need_ you!" every part of me wanted to burn away, to wither away, sobs racking through me, my mind, my thoughts, everything, just pain, just horrible, horrible pain, the tears so hot, so, so hot, his eyes flaming in the night, "I…I can't….you can't…you can't…you're crazy. You're _mad_! I'm not letting you-"

"Joey-"

"If you think I'm just going to stand here and let you _die_-"

"Joey, let me-"

"Scarlett!" I screamed, turning away from him, from his eyes, from his tear, leaping aside, staring over towards Scarlett; but she already had the dagger in Jared's limp hand, tucked neatly, folded neatly, her fingers wrapped around his cold ones, positioned over the heart, waiting, her red hair a veil of blood, hiding her, hiding them, the heart thudding through the world, pounding through the red dawn-

I leapt forward, towards Scarlett, my heart screaming, my soul shrieking-

And Will grabbed me by my face, both hands closing on either side of my face, on both cheeks, hot and fiery, holding me, taking me, pulling me in, his eyes wet and clear and beautiful, more beautiful then everything I had ever seen, his breath hot against my lips, his nose pressed against my own, our bodies meeting together, his arms pulling me in, right up against him. I couldn't fight him, couldn't try, the tears so very hot, the pain tearing through my every cell as he took me and pulled me towards him, into his arm, into him, his eyes burning like fading stars-

"No-"

"Do you know what I thought when I first met you?" he was crying now, crying against me, our tears mixing, our lashes touching, our noses smothered against one another, his sobs thick and hot and shrieking against my lips, his fingers hot and alive, our eyes together, forever and ever, "I thought you were beautiful."

_Please._

"No-"

"You made me feel guilty, Joey," my heart was screaming, my soul was screaming, my sobs breaking from my chest, my arms crumbling against him, my entire body broken, beaten, destroyed completely, "About Elizabeth…I looked at you, and you made me mad. You made me hate myself."

_Please, no._

_Please._

"No-"

"But you laughed, and you smiled, and you said stupid things that made me laugh too," it was just weeping, horrible weeping, his hands hot and tight, his body against mine, my chest raking with the sobs, with the howls, my mind screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming-

_Please._

_Please._

_Please._

_Please, no._

"No-"

"And you're craziness, and your stubbornness, and your pure sarcasm…." I could taste his tears, his very tears, his very heart, my body screaming, protesting, my every bone willing to crumble away, to give in, to die, to feel no more, to hurt no more, his eyes wet and alive, divine beyond words, "Everything about you…"

_Please._

"I love you, Joey."

And we kissed, for the very last time; our lips met, our tears met, our blood and our sweat and our skin, and we kissed, tasting each other, giving each other, my lips begging him, pleading him, loving him. I pressed myself against him and gave myself to him, pressing hard, unyielding, throwing everything I had at him, screaming against him, shrieking, howling, my every tear, pain, anguish, anger, grief, pure devastation-

And I loved him, there, right there, with every breath in me, with every strength, our bodies crashing, our hands gripping, our souls loving, refusing to let go, refusing to say goodbye, my entire being, my entire existence living for him, only for him, my every pain, my every love, my deepest, darkest, greatest passionate love…

I loved him.

I loved him right there.

Just for that few seconds.

Just for that few worlds.

I loved him.

_I loved him._

And then, he tore away, pulling away, the heat crawling off, his hands sliding down, my breath gasping, my chest heaving as he left me, as he turned, as he walked…

And I was crying, just crying, the world of fire and water, of black smoke and black seas, of glinting daggers and trembling hands, of toppled heads and dripping blood, of shattered mast and cooking wood, of trembling cannons and piercing gunshots, of clanging rapiers and screaming dead, of booming waves and twisted sails, of blood red hair and cold, pale corpses, of gliding blood and lifeless bones, of red dawns and….

And Will.

Will.

He stood there, at the very edge of the helm, at the brink, the red sea raging below, the gaping jaws, the bloody waves, his ankles propped just over the edge, the wind whistling against his dark coat. The red sun rose behind him, a deep, bloody red, glistening around him, at the very edge of the world, his hair bright with the red, the crimson wind playing with his dark curls, the sunlight praising his face, his radiant face, his divine face, his sad smile…

His beautiful smile.

Will's smile.

_My Will._

The world was blood.

_My Will._

He stood there, and he stared at me, his eyes beautiful, the most beautiful in the world, alive, fiery, flaming in the dark night, gold in the red of the dawn, clear gold, bright gold, pained gold, crying gold…

_My Will._

"Don't forget me."

There was a bolt, a bolt of pain in his face, like his body had been zapped through-

His arms went up on either side, stretched out like a birds, red in the bloody day-

His eyes screamed-

And he smiled.

Will smiled.

"Goodbye, Joey."

And then, he tilted back, the red light spilling, his shadow dropping beyond the ship, his hair flopping back, his smile fading into red light….

And Captain William Turner fell into the sea.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Knees hit wood.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Tears met skies.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Metal cut dead flesh.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Fire burned tears.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Jared screamed.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Fire burned soul.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

Circe whispered.

**Author:**

*** Wears helmet and bulletproof vest…**


	49. The Enfal Tree

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Jeez, guys…. CALM DOWN…do you really think that I would torture Joey that much? I'm not THAT insane….**

**Ok…so I don't really like the first part of this chapter, mainly because it's about grief, and I don't really know that. So, I apologise for that part. Really sorry.**

**Chapter 46: The Enfal Tree**

"Start talking."

Before me, Circe just kept her silence, her lithe body waltzing upon the black sands, feet wet and trailing, footsteps in the dull dust. Her dark hair hung behind in a thick, wet knot, the blue silk of her dress sashaying in the cold, red morning air as she pawed along the black edge with her nymph grace, the salty sea water dripping off her ebony skin in thick drops, plopping down onto the fine sands like gleaming gems, red and blue and bright in the dawn of the world.

Though it wasn't really dawn anymore.

The wind was cold against my wet skin.

My boots felt heavy with sand.

_Will._

"Did you hear me?"

"I did," Circe answered, cool and smooth, like a deep river rushing through a mountain valley, her voice carrying high up into the patterned sky; up above, the dawn was fading away, streaking away, the dashes of blood across the cerulean sky thick and livid over the horizon, the dime of sun rising up into the waking world. Blue domed overhead, thick blue, deep blue, blue as the sea, but in the distance, against the ocean, beyond the fleet of ships and raging battles, the skies were still red, the entire world shred to flames by a yawning star. Clouds streaked gold against cobalt, the sea churning with blood, the wind howling red, and up above, amidst the battle of blood and sea, a lonely pale moon smiled down morosely, gentle, waning, grieving-

And I didn't care.

I couldn't care.

_Will._

Before me, walking upon the very edge of the black cliffs, Circe kept her silence still, her back towards me, her nimble body dripping water, like torrid blood. Her wet feet walked upon the black dust, drifting dusky grains, dark imprints trailing her as she walked like an agile cat, balancing upon the ragged, sharp, high edge as if it were nothing more then a simple, flat road. The blue of her dress seemed indigo in the red of the horizon, gliding in the gale like lapping waves of purple, smooth and elegant, hugging to the curves of her body as she moved stealthily through the dawn, dark hair trickling wet, black as the dust. Cold wind tore against her skin as she swayed her dark arms, moving smoothly, beautifully as she walked along the perching high edge of the black cliff-

And I like I said- I didn't care.

I couldn't care.

_Will._

To the left, below the fiery skies and before the gleaming red horizon, the gold, lazy sun stretching in a stir, the ships bobbed upon bloody waters, their sails flapping pink in the red of the world. Flags streamed like coursing rivers, the ropes shivering in the cold gale, wood glistening wet against the red light; they were nothing more then dots in the red seas, unseeable at this height, at the very top of the black cliff, their shadows dark and long upon the cresting waves. A flaming ship roared in the heart of it all, red froth crashing against sodden wood, thick chains descending from the bowels of wood, into the crimson seas-

And even here, up upon the black cliff, the sounds of war raged through the dawn.

I could hear the cannons booming, thunders in a howling gale, the sounds of clashing blades and rampant guns like a far-away musical, a TV turned on in another room. It seemed so distant, the screams littered like dreams; but it was there, down, far down, three ships, one an inferno, nestled, trapped in the centre of at least 12 wooden monsters. Crashing waves sang with booming drums, the flaming winds tearing against all, clawing, destroying, cold against the very heat of my chest; somehow, it seemed so strange, standing up here, staring down at a war I had just come from.

Why shouldn't it be strange?

Up here, it was nothing, like watching a game of battleship- lifeless objects moving with special effects, a picture, a painting, a movie, unreal but beautiful, fiction but thrilling-

But it wasn't fiction.

It hadn't been.

I had seen the cannons.

I had seen the swords and guns.

I had seen the screaming men.

I had seen the blood.

I had felt the blood.

It wasn't fiction.

No.

_Far from it._

It was a little watching chess, against the backdrop of a flaming world, the sun a lazy eye, winking down at it's children as they killed each off, blood waging beneath a bloody sky, upon a bloody sea-

Where Will was.

In that sea.

In that bloody sea.

That was where Will was.

That was where he laid.

He was there, somewhere, deep in those throwing calvarias-

No.

He was at the bottom.

He was lying upon the bottom.

Will was there, lying upon the bottom of the bloody sea, upon the black bottom, at the very end of darkness, his dark hair floating back against ragged sand, his body resting upon black rocks, the cold red water pressing down upon him, crushing him, his eyes forever shut-

And dead.

Will was dead.

Will was gone.

Gone.

Gone forever.

Taken forever.

_Taken_-

And yet, I couldn't feel.

I couldn't feel a thing.

The red skies were haunting, streaking in maniac fires, the sun rising like a majestic god from the belly of a tormented beast, colours clawing through the wind, a mosaic of blood and flames-

But I couldn't feel.

I couldn't.

I couldn't feel a thing.

_Will._

In the centre of the ships, of the raging bloody seas, a ship was aflame, dancing with fires, leaping high up into the warring skies-

But I couldn't feel.

I couldn't.

I couldn't feel a thing.

_Will._

Somewhere, in the bottom of the sea, far below me, out of my grasp, Will laid, lost forever, gone forever, nothing more then another of the deep, a part of the rocks, a part of the waves, the animals coming froth, bellies a-rumbling, meat aplenty-

But I couldn't feel.

I couldn't.

I couldn't feel a thing.

_Will._

Was that wrong?

Was that wrong?

Not feeling?

Not thinking?

Being numb?

Being cold?

Being dead-

"I should you heal first," Circe's voice was like a splash of cold water, icy cold water, like a slash of a blade in a cold winter morn; she was standing there, her bare, wet feet standing an inch off the dusty edge, her body no longer moving. She had turned around and was staring right at me now, water dripping loud and clear upon the fine black grains; she was standing as per usual, a statue, beautiful and crafted, the indigo dress gliding about her curves, her black hair dark and wet upon her broad shoulders. Smooth dark arms lapped down at either side, her eyes like orbs of endless black, a pair of abyss, staring at me across the smooth black plains, dark dust drifting, dancing in her wake. Her red lips were course perfect, a straight line and in the light of the red morning, in the glow of the sleepy sun, she seemed a little red, her dark skin taking on a livid colour, like the colour of old blood, blushing her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. Coy cold wind danced like a song around her stone eyes.

War cried into the southern skies.

The world felt cold.

_Will._

"What?"

"You're bleeding, little one," she simply stated, urging with a finger at me, her neck long and dark, arching against her wet curls-

And she was right.

I was bleeding.

All over me was blood, red, dark blood, gashing through the tanned skin, numb as death. They were all over me, dashes of bright red all about my clothes; the yellow sleeves of my top stained thick with rusty blood, clotted and streaked, random, messy as hell. My pants were also stained with red, though the dark covered it up, the leather of my bodice unaffected by rolling blood-the strings and buckles were stained though, thick blood, fresh blood, white turned to gruesome crimson. My right sleeve had been torn off, all the way up to the forearm, and along my skin was a jagged scar, thick and red, long and raw-

And numb.

Completely numb.

_Will._

My face was stained with blood too, but not my own, not entirely; there was scratch near my neck, and a bleeding tongue, but the dried blood patterned beneath my chin, clumps of clotted red reaching up into my hair line, persistent against even the seawater. My hair was a mess too, a tangle of red and brown, thick and heavy upon my shoulders, wet and clingy, dripping water and blood, my skin crawling with streams of clear and red-

And even my medicine's man eye was stained red.

_Will._

At my side, upon my holster, the sword was heavy, hanging on, dragging down, its silver cut edge nearly touching the gliding dust, gleaming like the fire it was. Unlike me, for some reason, it was unmolested by its killings, smooth and clean, the gold hilt glinting like the fires above, the ruby like a triumphant red eye. It was still glowing, glowing bright, glowing strong, and gleaming against the black dust, the cold world, jumping for joy-

And I didn't want to touch it.

Not anymore.

_Will._

Why should I, after all?

Why should I want to do anything with anything that brought this upon me?

Why should I touch the sword?

Why?

It wasn't mine.

It was Balder's.

_Balder._

Him.

He who brought me here.

He who picked me.

He who made me kill.

He who made me lose Will.

Him.

Balder.

Balder.

_Balder-_

"Little one?"

"I'm fine," my throat felt dry as I blinked, my sore, torn, ruined fingers trailing up towards my hair, pushing back against the wet, red curls, the wind cold and rampant against my sorry form, "Just start talking."

Black dust howled like lonely souls.

"You're bleeding," it was as if, to Circe, that the most important right now, after everything that had just happened, were my bruises and cuts; she stared at me across the small distance, her dress flapping over the jagged edge, the wind howling against her wet skin. Dark eyes clawed against the red world.

Cold prickled through my body.

The world was bleeding.

_Will._

"I said I'm fine-"

"You have a bullet wound in you hip-"

"It's just a graze, Circe," I breathed, sighing, the air cold and dead, sour with the volcanic rock, black dust wafting over my bloodied boots, drops of water patterned against the swirling grains, my body numb and cold as ice, "Now start talking-"

"Child-"

"As far as I can see, Circe, you don't have an endless supply of magic herbs upon this rock-"

"Let me, at least, try-"

"_You _dragged me here!" The wind flapped curls against my eyes, wet curls, dark curls, screams faded in the wind like crying banshees, cannons booming into the fiery skies, my heart cold and dead, "You dragged me out of that war, back to this island, because of you said you can save him-"

"Not me, but I know how-"

"Why do I even believe you?" She was just standing, staring, her face blank, her hair wet, her dark, dark eyes staring out at me like the glassy blacks of a doll's, aimless and dead, my voice coarse in the bloody world," You _lied_-"

"I'm not lying now-"

"I don't have time for this, Circe-"

"On the contrary, you do-this war can rage on for days, and your brother is now fine-"

"With Will dead."

There wasn't emotion in my voice.

_Will._

"Yes, that's why we're here, isn't it? " she nodded, her dark eyes staring at me, still and quiet, without a single thought, her dark hair trailing about in wet clumps, the red morning blushing against her skin, her voice like a thrilling fall of spring water upon the jagged rocks, "We can-"

"Why am I here?"

"Why did you come?"

"You said-"

"I said that the island could bring him back-"

"I don't believe you-"

"If you didn't believe me-

"JUST TELL HOW TO BRING WILL BACK!"

My voice echoed, the black plains silent, dark, bars of black against cold red and blue, the words soaring up into the warring skies, travelling deep away across the black plateau, towards the black horizon, towards the end of the world; it had just burst out of me, raw and bright, my chest panging, my heart booming-

And my mind screaming a name, screaming and screaming and screaming, clawing, gnawing, begging the pain to stop, tortured and destroyed, ruined to dust.

_Will._

The world smelt of blood and flames.

_Will._

Circe just stared.

For a moment, she just stood, staring, letting my voice echo up into the distant skies, the cold gripping all around, howling, screaming, blood dripping off my fingers in slow, thick drops, like the sands of time. My chest felt tight, the wind slapping against my skin, salty with the sea, sour with something else, the black dust wafting over my bloody boots, dancing like myriads, like naiads, swirling in lonely song-

And then, she just picked up her skirt, turned around, and walked away, walking down the edge of the cliffs, the path that she was taking in the first place, her dark curls laughing curls, black dust swirling like a dance, her naked, wet feet like those of elves, walking nimbly on loose rock, elegant, quiet, lithe towards-

Towards a tree.

A black tree.

_Will._

It was a tree, a black, bare tree, sitting at the very edge of the cliff, at the point where the black desert stretched out its furthest, pointing out towards the sea like a compass, a lighthouse, or a blade, black and sharp, jagged and thorn, looming over the rustling palms, the lonesome shrubs, the drifting spray and red tide; it was tree, a normal tree, but bare, bare of its leaves, its flowers, it fruits, its branches reaching naked, black as the dust. It's entire body was dark, a mass of swirling and twisted knots, dark as the world, black fingers reaching up into the red skies, alone upon the edge of rock, looming out into the world. Roots, black roots, crept out of dancing dust like hollowed bones, the red of the morning glinting against the dark wood, a thorn in the head of the ugly beast. It's branches was still in the gale, but they were thick, strong, leading out in arms, clawing at the world, fingers desperate, pleading, tortured souls crying up for mercy, for redemption. Black dust swirled about its twisted body, its hands bare, its face smooth, its entire being quiet upon the black desert, a person, a man standing upon the edge of the cliff, watching as the war killed and blood splattered. The wind was cold, icy, tearing against my skin, pushing and gnawing, taunting at my bloody curls; but the tree stood silent, a dark face, a dark monster against a bloody world. Lonely branches pierced the cold, dark and swirling, beautiful and quiet-

And sad.

Just sad.

There was something sad about that tree, about the tree that sat in at the head of the black cliffs, at the front of cold, dusty, never-ending black desert.

It just sat there, without a word, unmoving in the red, unmoving in the wind, the dust swirling around its lonesome soul, its branches like pleading hands up towards the warring skies. Red wind kissed against relentless darkness.

Pure darkness.

Beautiful darkness.

_Will._

I could no other tree, nothing else like it on these black cliffs, lonely and tired, standing on its own, in front of the world; there was something beautiful about it, about its dark sheen, its twisted body, its reaching arms, desperate and longing in the world of blood and fires and swirling black dust….

There was something beautiful.

Something beautiful.

And sad.

Just sad.

_Will._

I followed Circe.

We walked together, she upon the edge, in front of me, delicate and elegant, me trudging behind, boots heavy with heavy, dripping water, dripping blood, my body heavy, the world red. To the right, the black plains kept their silence, their deep, sour silence, watching as we pawed forward, the sounds of war laughing through the air like dancing nymphs, the wind cold and gnawing, desperate against my soul-

And the tree remained just where it was.

It was a black blimp in the red skies, a dark shadow, a tall shadow, reaching up into the cold, cold world-

And sad, somehow.

Just sad.

I couldn't explain it, not really, but staring at it, at its forlorn limbs, its twisted soul, its poking bones…

It was sad.

Just sad.

_Will._

It wasn't long before we were standing before it, in its shadow, its dark and lonely shadow; dust swirled about it, like a mirage, its shadow long and cold, the wind howling against its branches in never-ending assault. It's roots poked in long limbs, stretching out of scattered dust like the skeletons of lost souls, its body long and thick, dark and beautiful, knotted and wrung, branches thick and black and heavy, sabers into a bleeding sky-

And Circe touched it.

Her fingers reached up, dark in the red world, and without a single world, with a soft whoosh of indigo silk, the demi-goddess reached forwards and planted her hand upon the smooth wood. Flesh touched cold wood, her fingers unfolding in her graceful way, slow, feeling, pressed against the wood as if searching, willing, dying for a simple taste. Her wrist muscles clenched, veins popping; behind her, I could see her shoulders heave, a sigh slithering out from her hidden face, her hands strong upon the wood. The sigh rippled throughout her body, cascading like rivers, like streams, like flowing blood.

Her sigh sounded sweet in the wind.

_Will._

"Circe?"

"Touch it."

And so, without a thought, without a word, my body and mind and soul numb like ice, I walked past her, towards the south of the tree, the one that faced the desert, my hand reaching forward, the wind sweet and sour and cold as hell, and-

And it wasn't wood.

Not wood at all.

From the distance, all the way to now, it had seemed like an ordinary tree, a tree of wood, bare and naked, dead and black; but a tree nevertheless, made of wood, carved of wood, wood, simple and elegant wood. It's branches had looked like wood, its roots like dark mahogany wood, the dust dancing around the remnants of some black oak, a skeleton of a dead tree-

But it wasn't even a tree.

No.

Not a tree.

A tree is made of wood.

Simple wood.

Wood.

Not rock.

Wood.

Wood.

Wood.

_Not rock._

But there it was, right in front of me, a tree, a naked tree, a black tree-

Made of rock.

It was a dark rock, a black rock, a clear rock; it's surface smooth, riveted with melting lines, thick and clear, smooth, translucent, like that of crystallized black water. It was like a gem, a gem that did not glint, a black, black gem that reflected no colour, no life, so completely smooth, so completely cold, a pillar of abyss, winking faintly like a tear-

But it was impossible, wasn't it?

A tree made of rock?

Of smooth rock?

Who on earth had the time to go and carve out a tree of rock, and so perfectly so?

Who ever heard of a tree made of rock?

_Black rock?_

"What the hell?"

The roots were rocks too, not wood, black, black rock, smooth as bone, sticking out of the black sands like a dyed skeleton. Red sunlight glinted kissed against the protruding rock, the cut smooth, the edge glossy, like uncut coals, rough diamonds burning black against the dusty grains, glazed lines spread out in tendrils like whispery foam, near invisible against the black gem. Dark branches cried up into the sky, like smooth, glistening arms of black, the stone flawless, natural, not a mark, not a dent of tool, the knobs and twist of trees ridging its surface like a normal dead oak, like a glazier of black crafted without a single indication, haunting against the red morn-

And warm.

The tree was warm.

Burning warm.

Beneath my fingers, splayed out in ridges, like waves in a black sea, a twisty torso reaching up in aching arms, the rock was warm, like the cresting sun, surging through my skin, my blood, rushing through my limbs, pulsing with flames, with life-

_Just like my sword._

With a gasp, I looked down, at the blade that hung at my waist; it was glowing, brighter then before, warm, hot against the wet of my thigh, heating against the dripping pants, its tip rippling like fire, beaming like a winking star. Gold hilt laughed like liquid fire, the words glowing like burning flames, a fire within my reach-

_**Joey.**_

I leaped back, gasping, tearing my fingers off the black ice, my lungs panging, my heart shuddering, the cold, cold red wind tearing through my skin, through the golden warmth-

And Circe just stared, standing quietly, watching me with those dark, dark eyes.

_Will._

"What the hell, Circe?" My voice was choked, my eyes staring at the gleaming black rock, at the dark skeleton, my fingers dying to rip the gleaming metal away from me, to throw it over the black cliff, over the pale beaches, into the red seas, to the bottom where Will rested forever, a carcass-

Circe sighed.

"Circe-"

"It is the Enfal Tree, child."

_Will._

"What on-"

"Throughout the times, the name has been whispered among us immortals, a legend, a myth, a hope-"

"So this tree is called Enfal?" I sucked in breath, my voice coarse, cutting off her stupid rant before she even began, the tree still and quiet, beautiful, against the very tip of the black world. Black dust wafted over her feet as her dark eyes stared right at me, gems of dark, almost as dark as the tree itself, cold and hard, black and dead. Cannons thundered in the sky.

The world was red as blood.

_Will._

"No," she shook her head, her dark wet curls heaving against her covered chest, her dark skin dancing with the light of the beautiful world, "It's called the Enfal Tree-"

"That's what I said-"

"No-"

"Is it magic?"

"Oh darling," she sighed yet again, and then, with a whoosh of indigo silk, she reached forward and strayed the edge of her fingers against one of those glossy branches, running her dark fingers along its black knobs, its tips like pointed daggers, rimmed with blood, up towards the skies, "This whole island _is _magic."

My throat felt tight.

_Will._

"What does that mean? You said that this…that this place isn't…"

I let my voice trail as my voice choked over, the numbness sinking against the tips of my fingers, my breath withering away like a dying flower, the tree dark as the hole within me; I didn't want to speak anymore, not to say, not to think….

_Will._

I was tired.

So very tired.

Beside me, Circe stared up at those dark branches, gazing up as they clawed against the sky, black curls ruffling against the red wind, black dust dancing.

I was tired.

So very tired.

_Will._

"This isn't Boinca, yes-"

"What does this has to do with Will?"

"Will is the reward, little one," her voice trailed up into the bloody wind, her neck arching upwards, her fingers caressing the smooth black rock branch, trailing along its dark veins, indigo silk cascading like a forgotten mirage, my mind numb and cold as ice, "He can bring him back for you, only if you are willing to work for it of course."

"Bring him back?"

"Yes."

"From the dead?"

"Yes, child. He can bring Will back to live, if only you do as you are told-"

"He?"

"Balder."

Balder.

Balder.

_Balder._

That name.

That very name.

That person.

That man.

No.

Not man.

Not a man.

A god.

A dead god.

A legend.

A legend that started all this.

A legend that made all this happened.

_A legend that ruined my entire life._

A fire exploded.

"Balder?" my teeth gritted without me actually knowing, my guts tight, my breath tight, the wind pushing against the cold of my wet skin, numbing my every sense, my ever cell, "The god…"

"The god of truth and light, Balder the magnificent-"

"Oh fuck it, Circe!" I suddenly screamed, letting it tear from me, rip from me, my body heaving, my chest panging, my tongue bitter and raw, my blood rushing like mad waves, the numbness in my body withering before the exploding fires, "Quit it, will you? End it! I've had enough of gods, and magic, and stupid trees called Enfal-"

"The Enfal Tree-"

"I just lost the only man that I have ever loved!" my fingers were dying to reach for the hilt, the gold hilt, the beaming hilt, the numbness melting back into my skin as the blood suddenly roared to life, the sun slashing against my cold skin, the medicine man's eye laughing like a far-away tale, "Will's gone, Circe! He's dead! DEAD! I don't know what to do, I don't how to react, because all I can feel is this stupid numbness, as if I'm not even human anymore-I can't feel pain, don't you see? I can't cry! I can't scream! I want to- _God, _I want to-but I can't fucking feel. _I can't feel._ Don't you understand? Will just died, Circe-and so, I have bigger problems that your stupid dreams and insanity-"

"I can help you get Will back-"

"Don't bother! He's gone-"

"Balder's grave."

My breath froze.

_Balder's grave._

It was as if someone had snuffed out the flames within me, the growing, sudden flames, and everything fell away to the ice, my blood freezing in my veins, my mind numbing away, shocked, still, the fires melting, dying into absolutely nothing. My lips parted helplessly, the breath cold as ice, the wind howling against me, lashing me, trying to wake me but my body was gone, the fires dying completely, the black tree staring at me like a cold shadow, watching like a solemn god.

I couldn't breathe.

_Balder's grave._

"What?"

My voice was only a whisper.

Circe's was like a murmuring creek.

"This is Balder's grave, little one," her voice was silent, and in the red of the world, she turned back to stare at me, her fingers still caressing the solemn branch, her eyes as cold and hard and black as the silent tree, the indigo of her dress washing against the drifting sands, her skin dancing with the light of the flaming skies, "Here he lies."

"Balder?"

"Yes. Balder."

"You're lying."

"Not this time."

I couldn't breathe.

_Balder's grave._

"I don't understand."

"He lies here, Joey," she gripped the dark branch, her nimble fingers tight around the smooth rock, her face like a beautiful dream against bleeding skies, "Balder. He lies beneath these sands, and the Enfal Tree is his tombstone."

"Enfal-"

"He lies beneath our feet."

I couldn't breathe.

_Not a breath._

Balder's grave.

Balder's grave.

We were standing on Balder's grave.

Right on top of him.

Right on top.

If the legend was any sort of true, of course.

We were standing on him.

We were standing on Balder's grave.

Balder's grave.

_Balder's grave._

Without another word, I gazed down, down at the silent dust, at the drafting dust, at the beautiful, twisting flakes, at the grains that sang about my ankles and over the metal boots, twirling like ballerinas, cold in the wind; beneath them, beneath the sands, beneath the rocks, in the heart of the never-ending black cliffs was the body of a god, of Balder, the one who had brought me here, the one who started all of this, the one whose sword I held, the one who whispered in my voice, whenever I needed him too….

_Wait._

"I don't understand," I stared up at her again, at her demure form, at her beautiful form, her dark eyes watching deep and haunting, cold as rocks, dead as the skies, screams of war tearing up into the skies, black smoke scattered among the red like cresting waves; the black tree was silent, dark, beautiful, against the bleeding world.

Watching.

_Will._

"Circe-"

"You've forgotten, haven't you child?" Circe's voice was like a far away dream, her fingers gliding around the branch, a lover's touch, her dark wet trailing in the icy wind, a mosaic of the deepest black, my heart cold and numb, my mind completely blank, "You've forgotten what I said."

I couldn't feel my tongue.

"What?"

I could barely hear myself.

"I told you, before, back on the ship, before we came here-"

"I-"

"Gods never truly die, remember? Their physical bodies disintegrate, but over the times, they grow back, their soul forever more, living as they had before. They-"

"He's alive."

"Very much."

_And of course he was, wasn't he?_

_He's alive._

_I had his sword._

_I heard his voice._

_He was there._

_He's always been there._

_He saved my life, so many times, whispering in my ears…_

_And the dead can't whisper in my ears, can they?_

_Will can't whisper in my ears, can't he?_

_Not anymore._

_Not forever._

_Never._

The wind tore my heart away.

"Balder's alive?"

"Yes."

"Where is he then?"

"Beneath us."

"He nappin'?"

"Balder is trapped, Joey," the cannons were booming, and in the distance, in the red, red sea, I could hear the wailing of men, the cries of war rich in the bloody skies, the sun watching with it's lazy eye, uninterested, bored, uncaring of all the blood, of all the bones, dust wafting like a forgotten dream, her voice like a carolling sound, "He's been trapped down there, beneath these dust, beneath the Enfal Tree since he's death. He was buried here-"

"And he can't dig out."

"It's magic, Joey," her dark eyes narrowed, and in the red of the world, in the cold of the world, her dress flowed like violet waves, my stomach, twisted, the bile creeping up my throat, the wind howling against the flowing, bloody curls, my body cold, numb, dead, "Pure magic-not my simple tricks and fancy, but the magic of the gods, of all the gods, magic not even Balder the great could defeat. _Can _defeat, even know, when he is grown to almost his full strength-"

"How on earth did you know that-"

"I know things, remember?"

_Will._

"So, apparently, according to you, Balder is right-"

_Wait._

Something flashed across my eyes.

_Wait._

"Wait," my voice was quiet, so quiet, my eyes widening slowly, the knife slowly plunging into my head, the thought slick, sudden, coming, blooming, my heart hushing quiet, still, silent, "Wait…that's its all been about?"

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes were like dark fires.

_Wait._

"You knew…" it was dawning on me, growing on me, my eyes widening, my throat sore, the very thought, the very truth creeping on me like a mist, raw, real, rushing through my veins, "You kn-that's why you brought me here, isn't it? Balder?"

"Child-"

"You said I was chosen, that I was his heir-"

"You are-"

"That's what's it about, right? That's what it's _all _been about! Balder! It's been all about _him_!"

My scream echoed across dancing black sands.

The black tree watched like a silent master, voiceless and sombre.

Cannons screamed.

_Wait._

Before me, Circe just stared, and then, in her blank face, dark and beautiful, she nodded, a single nod, a simple nod, her dark, dead eyes never once leaving me.

My ruined, bloody fingers clenched on either side.

_Wait._

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Gods don't exist."

"Yet here we are."

"Because of the gods."

"Because of you."

"Because of Balder," my heart was panging, the blood rushing, and for the first time, for the very first time, I could see it all, right before my eyes; it was all for Balder.

All of it.

Me coming here, with Jared, finding Sparrow, finding the sword, meeting Will, meeting Barbossa, stumbling on Circe, killing sires, fighting daemons…

It was Balder.

All of it.

Because of him.

_For _him.

Everything was _for _him.

Everything.

All the blood.

All the deaths.

All the terrors.

_Will._

Him.

Balder.

Balder.

Will died for Balder.

_Will._

I couldn't breathe.

"Joey-"

"Tell me," my voice was quiet now, so quiet, so quiet I couldn't even hear it, my eyes staring right at Circe, my chest still, my heart screaming, my mind trying to understand, to reject, to run away and never look back, screams tearing through the dawn, "Tell me it isn't true-"

"Child-"

"Tell me that everything hadn't happened for him."

"Little one, listen n-

"Tell me all those people, all those lives…"

"You have to understand, child-"

"Tell me Will didn't die for him. Tell me that-"

"Will didn't die for Balder, child," she was glaring, glaring hard, glaring strong, the red beautiful against her skin, her lips taut, my own heart screaming and jumping, stabbing against my rib-cage, heat panging against my thigh, "He died for you, so that your brother could live, and that you could still have him-"

"He never would have even have died if I never met him, if Balder hadn't brought me back-"

"Do you think that the whole world revolves you?"

"How-"

"There are more important things in the world, child. More important things. Captain Turner's death was tragic and heroic, but nothing more then a footnote in the truth of things-"

"FOOTNOTE?" all of a sudden, the sword was in my hand, hot and fiery, burning bright against the red skies; my blood rushed, and I was so hot, so very hot, as inflamed, my breathing ragged, my heart torn, my every muscle struggling not to leap forward and slice her away, rage tearing me down, consuming me, my limbs shuddering with sudden fury, "HE IS NOT A FOOTNOTE-"

"He is! Compared to the real things-"

"What real things?" I was screaming, more then I could bear, my every breath, my every nerve tearing with rage, my entire body consumed by the leaping flames, the sword burning bright and furious in my hand, begging for more blood, "There were never really things! It was just you, you and your psychotic dream-"

"Like Metus was a dream-"

"WILL IS DEAD, YOU FU-"

"Only you can wake Balder, child!" her eyes were dark, so dark, and my limbs shivered, my body quaking, the sword gleaming, ready to strike, my hot, fiery, burning with such rage, "Only you can slay the beast, and bring him back to the world-"

"Shut up-"

"Don't you understand? You're the heir. You're _Balder_'s heir; what did you think that meant? Sitting around, waving a sword in the air?"

"You're mad, Circe-" I yelled, but she cut me off, ranting, her eyes dancing with such dark flames, the red light like fire upon my skin, as dark and gruesome as my turning rage:

"This is what you were supposed to do! This is what you were _born _to do-"

"STOP IT-"

"Only the chosen descendant of Balder can save Balder, can bring him back from the dead, and back into this world-"

"I'm not listening to this, you-"

"Only _you_ can do this, Joey! Only you can bring Balder back! Only you can start the war of the gods, and end this cruel world-"

"SHUT UP, YOU CRAZY BITCH-"

The earth rumbled.

It was a low, a deep rumble, like a thunder beneath our feet, miles down in the black rock, beneath all the black dust, a growl of hunger, a moaning of giants-

_Boom._

It was so quiet, yet it vibrated against my feet, like the shuddering of the earth, a wave breaking upon weak rock, a deep, silent yawn, creaking through the air, the cold, cold air-

_Boom._

It couldn't been the cannons, for this was right beneath us, beneath our very feet, a loud groan from the centre of the earth, the wakening yawn of the black rock-

_Boom._

And then, I was falling.

I didn't what happened, I couldn't see; the ground disappeared beneath me, and I was falling, falling before I could think, before I could breathe. Black rocks dashed, the world spun of red skies, my heart leaping out of my throat-

And I was just falling, falling away, falling blindly, black and red spinning all about me, my hair streaming up, my body limp, lifeless, my throat caught, dead, shock stinging, red skies falling further and further away….

And then, I hit against rock, dusty red, slamming down on my side, the sword rolling out of my fingers, pain jolting bones, black dust consuming me-

And then I was rolling, rolling somewhere, falling down on smooth black rock, dust swirling, my eyes thick, watering, my tongue red, pain stabbing into my body as I was helpless, trashing, kicking, gravity gnawing at me, thunders booming beneath my bones. Black and red competited for my vision, my nails digging into black sands as I fell, as I rolled, hands desperate, mind desperate, body screaming with complete terror.

I hit against the rock.

I didn't know what was happening, the black and red and bolting pain, my fingers grasping for reality-

And then, a tear through the world, a roar, a crack of earth, of rock, a loud, booming sound, like the breaking of the skies above, the red skies, my neck twisting and turning, black dust gnawing, biting, my back jolting with absolute agony-

And then, before I couldn't breathe, before I couldn't even blink-

I was falling, falling again, falling away, lost, confused, screaming and screaming and screaming, black dust blinding me, the earth rumbling, moaning, booming like flaming explosions, black rock stabbing into the red skies-

And I was just screaming, screaming and screaming, clawing at the sky, at the rock, trying to find a hold, a stop, something that I could hold on to, my lungs, my heart lost somewhere up in those red skies-

And then I hit earth, rumbling, black earth, dust swirling-

And the earth moved, gliding away, stabbing up in a loud, horrid boom, the entire world screaming with thunders, rumbling earth, groaning earth, my body sliding down against smooth rock as everything roared, my body twisting, thrashing, thrown, pain writhing as I fell away into chaos-

A black rock hit me, a black rock that stabbed upwards, a roaring black rock, thunders everywhere, pain breaking through my bones, a scream tearing out of my lips, black dust stinging in my eyes-

And then, I was falling back on my head, my heart gone, my life gone, my legs going up before me, my body falling back against open air, red skies dancing, black rocks shooting like fireworks, fires singing against the black of the world, thunders tearing through the red dawn, my head flying, my body flying, my fingers reaching up as I screamed, and screamed and screamed and-

_Bang._

The rock caught me, smooth rock, strong rock, my body hitting against it, crashing home-

And my entire body was aflame, pain exploding, throbbing, splinting through my body, taking me, consuming me, my every bone, my every breath breaking with such horrid pain, my head snapping back, my back screaming, my lips tearing out in a horrid cry as the agony ripped through me, the bones smashing against the black rock, gone forever. Stars wheeled across the sky, spinning, spinning, not stopping, not resting, my fingers reaching out, grabbing, seizing, the pain crying through me, my breath screaming, crying, muscles spasming, bones breaking. It was the most horrible pain, the most blinding pain, my entire body of utterly no sense, not a though spinning through my head as blood filled the world-

And everything just roared.

_Roared._

The earth was rumbling beneath me, the black dust stinging in my eyes, but all I could do was scream, scream from shock, from fear, from pain, the red skies blood above my body, every nerve, every cell, shattered, broken, torn away into a thousand of pieces, scattered upon the black rock, screams like roaring earth-

And the earth did roar, thunders, booming, creaking, tearing through the skies, stabbing, pounding, breaking everything in sight-

An earthquake.

I was in an earthquake.

_God._

_Oh, god._

"Circe!" I screamed, up into the sky, up into those wheeling stars, into those red clouds, black rocks stabbing up, shooting up, like stars, like daggers, like cannons, like fireworks, black daggers roaring up into the bloody world, my body shrieking with such morbid agony-

And then, there was smoke, black smoke, spewing up into the sky-

And I couldn't think.

Not for one minute.

Not in this pain.

_Pain._

The smoke had come from nowhere, and then there was this heat, this horrible heat, a flame, fires, burning through my very body-

"Circe!"

I couldn't understand it.

Not one bit.

The pain was so much, so very much, black smoke puffing up into the skies, covering up, destroying all, the heat screaming up into the air, light bright, pain bright, agony writing through my body, my bones, my teeth gritted in such pain…

And that was I could feel.

That was all I could do.

Pain.

Pure pain.

_And hell._

_This was hell._

_This was just hell._

_The smoke._

_The heat._

_The black rocks._

_The red skies-_

_Hell._

_I was in hell._

_I had fallen into hell-_

The black smoke was just tearing, gnawing, ripping across the world, shooting up like cannons into the red heavens, black as death, horrible, cutting away the bloody skies, swirling thick like a spewing volcano, spreading across the skies faster then I could scream-

And the heat was just eating, eating away, hot and bright, the pain shooting through my every cell, every thought, my entire world nothing more then hell, pure, fiery hell, agonising hell, fucking hell-

_**Get up now!**_

I couldn't think.

I couldn't even breathe.

There was just so much pain, so much pain…

_**Get up!**_

My arms were moving, twisting, the pain so agonising, so horrible, my mouth gaping, moaning, my bones stinging with such hatred-

_**Get up!**_

The black dust wafted beneath my weight, black smoke thick, vulgar, just shooting and shooting, hell pulling me into it's grasp-

_**Get up!**_

My fingers were so sore, so ruined, pushing against the earth, the soil, anguish tearing through my body, through my soul, blood dripping in thick red blobs, the fires so very hot-

_**Joey!**_

_Will._

With a scream, I turned, eyes crying, ears roaring, riding in the pain as I pushed off my back and onto my stomach, my legs useless, my arms screaming, my entire body moaning, lamenting, the pain throbbing with each breath, the black smoke, the horrible black smoke and black crags disappearing, dissipating. My mind was numb, my lips cold, my throat raw and my lungs screaming, the world a pit of fire and smoke, blood thick and raw, fingers crying, torrid skies, torrid world, rolling away as I fell onto my screaming chest, giving way to-

_Oh God._

I looked up.

Before me was hell.

Hell.

_Hell._

All that I could see, all that I could feel, all that was….

Was Hell.

Hell.

_Hell._

_Oh God._

There was fire everywhere.

No.

Not fire.

Lava.

Hot lava.

Flaming lava.

Screaming lava.

It was everywhere, right in front of me, a deep pool of hot, fiery brimstones, glowing like the belly of a beast, spewing, sputtering lava, screaming with every fire in the world. It was just there, a pool of deep lava, choked, orange and red, beaming up into the skies, the pits of hell burning like suns. Fire sputtered everywhere, streams of lava, rivers of lava, seas of lava, an ocean of fire, bubbling, kicking, screaming. It was all that I could see, running like liquid suns, so hot, so beautiful, glowing like stars, so, so bright; there were explosions everywhere, explosions of lava, of fires, of hell, splattering up into the skies, a flame of tossing fires, the pool so deep, so bright, so very hot. I had never seen anything so red, so orange, so beautiful, a mass, an ocean of endless fires, bubbling, gurgling, the clearing of a monster's throat, Sodom and Gomorrah running like streams. It was beautiful somehow, so bright it was, a life its own, a sea of its own, twisting and turning, sputtering and falling, dark and orange laughing, fires of hell dancing. There was so much, so much fire, so much lava, black smoke rolling over, spewing from the deepest throats, fiery tongues lapping over the black crags, falling, dropping, oozing, waterfalls of fire, lakes of fire, seas of fire, so hot, so bright, so beautiful…

And my skin was just burning right off.

_Oh God._

_Oh fucking God._

It was so hot, so, so hot, flames and fires writhing through the world, flaming like stars, raining death, raining hell, every bone, every pain melting away in the glazing, glowing heat, the world a hell of fire and red and-

And the black crags were rumbling all around, moving up, moving down, a bowl of lava in its centre, its sides, its peaks a fence of black, of black dust, all around, towering up into the sky, thundering as they reached up towards the black smoke. Lava spat, sputtering, thick and hot, blazing, burning, gurgling like the very pits of hell, the very end, dark, dark mountains, jagged peaks, tearing out of gleaming fires, of sputtering flames, of roiling smoke, stabbing like monsters, like claws, like teeth. Streams of lava, streams of fire all around, black mountains, black monsters writhing into the skies, into the black skies, flaming, blazing, burning hell-

And there, in the middle of it all, sitting in the deep pool of lava, surrounded by those rumbling black peaks and spitting flames, was a dragon.

**And here we are folks! Hope you enjoyed that one, and yes…I'm sure it has given you some sort of hope. **

**Anyhow, please review my fic. I really love your comments, even when they are screaming at me for killing of Will….I still love them though! Thanks you guys so much for all your help and though it is agonising to finish this fic off, I actually cant wait to write the sequel. Love you guys, and see you soon!**

**XOXO**


	50. The Valley Of Flames

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs, especially MY dragon.**

**Here we go!**

**Chapter 47: The Valley Of Flames**

_It can see me._

Before and beyond, the black crags stabbed out like jagged thorns, piercing towards the skies, daggers of black through the roiling, thick smoke, crude and daunting, dark, dusty teeth. Mountains they were, torn peaks, sharp summits, the black clouds swirling around the ragged tops like mirthing waves, kicking and brawling, tearing against the black rock as they clawed up into the hidden skies, bloody and horrid, majestic, higher then all of the world. They were just black giants, silent giants, towering above all, dark and haunting, whispering dust of black. Silent eyes watched out of bloody tips.

_It can see me._

Beneath them, beneath the black monsters, those black mountains, the lava hissed, red, hot lava, bubbling and sputtering in the descending hollow, thick and bright like melted gold. Black smoke roiled over its thick, jeering surface, gliding like fog over trashing waves, its gleaming fires screaming against dusty rock as they swam like rivers, streams, pooling down in burning waterfalls, lapping into the ocean of lava in slow, thick drips. Hot fires hissed like moaning daemons, calling out from the bowels of hell, shrieking my very name.

_It can see me._

All around me, the world swarmed with heat, burning, licking heat; the air was hot, so very hot, as if the sun itself had melted away beneath my feet, killing everything in its path. The world burned, black and red, the air foul with the dying air, the heat pressing down against me, against my lungs, squeezing every breath away. Sweat gleamed on every inch of skin, blood and sweat mixing together, my skin so hot that it felt like it was just boiling off, rippling off my bones. Hot blood boiled through my veins, shooting like flames, the heat choking my neck, fiery arms strangling my throat tight, lashing against my skin. My tongue had melted from the churning heat.

_It can see me._

I couldn't breathe.

It was just there, standing there, ankle-deep in the thick red waves, black smoke smouldering around its skin, trashing like spitting flames; it blended into the landscape around it, into the world, gleaming like the fires, coursing red as victorious blood, tall as the silent black mountains-

But it wasn't the fiery lava.

It wasn't the crags.

It wasn't the world.

No.

Not this world.

Not from this world.

_Not from this world._

At the centre of the shallow red pool, of the vast ocean of spitting fiery lava, surrounded by the jagged black claws, was a dragon.

A red dragon.

It was just sitting there, in the middle of all the flames, in the middle of all the lava, black smoke sputtering around its crimson form; it was giant, massive, a goliath of leather and bones perching up towards the black skies, pale light glowing like trembling flames. Dancing light gleamed across the coarse red, singing like pirouetting sparks, gliding, trembling, laughing like churning water, waves of fire, of sputtering magma; it was wide, so very wide, its red, gleaming body stretching across the breadth of the shallow, fiery pool, the black smoke roiling away from its feet and crashing against the molten sides, spitting, hissing smoke, frothing in thick, dark black. It's wings, its thick leathery wings, stabbed up through the skies, like the crags, trembling against the roiling lava, against the black mountains, slinking in and out of the fiery lava as they stretched through the smoke, roiling, black, smoke. Pale light shone through the webbed skin, veins meshing across the red velvet as the wings arched upwards in a lazy sprawl, sloshing through the glowing lava, massive, powerful wings, gleaming and strong, mighty through the flames. Fires gleamed off its massive width, rolling over meshed plains, thick and tough, brawny, powerful beyond worlds.

Talons gleamed white daggers against the black burn.

_Not from this world._

It was a colossus, so very massive, a creature, a monster, a demon, gleaming like the fires, winking against the black smoke, towering over the magma like a fiery mountain; it's body was long, so very long, gliding up from its squat, savage legs, mammoth snake, a leviathan, its long, colossus neck arching up, so thick, so massive. Its chest glowed like a burning hearth, rippling as it stretched, winking as its thick, leather wings stretched out to the sky, red veins webbing through smoky light, muscles trembling like rolling waves. Red skin crumbled, glinting like rubies in a smoke; it was covered in scales, thick, red scales, a diamond coat all over the monstrosity, creeping over the fine muscles, over the angular bones, glistening like the hidden red dawn, like millions of winking eyes, bloody and red with fire. They trembled together, along the rippling muscles, moving, gliding, glittering like waves of red, of blood, crimson light gleaming like bright rubies, so beautiful, so bright, burning like flames all over the reptilian's massive frame. It's knees were buckled with strength, pure, brute strength, giant red thighs gleaming with monstrous muscles as they trashed into the red lava, into the glowing flames, its claws melted away in the thick fires, in the roiling smoke. Red flames danced along its rubied shins.

Muscles moaned in tearing agony.

_Not from this world._

It's neck was a hellion, a monster, a miscreation, thick, mammoth, arching out among the tattered wings, skin laughing with dancing fires; bones, red-covered bones, daggers, swords, horrible piercing skin encircled the monster's head, a crown for Frankenstein, thick, long bones pushing against glinting scales, protruding out of its neck. White bones stuck out of the flesh like daggers, gleaming against rubied scales, stabbing out of the flesh like a crown of thorns, sharp and torn, thick around as my body; it was a circlet of bones and flesh, of gleaming scales, flaring out of the head, towards the neck, like a ravage bloom of blood and bones, stabbing up into the black and red smokes like blades through the heart of the world. The bones were cold white, burning in the fires of the sea; they swam down the robust, gleaming red neck, daggers of white stained black smoke as they stabbed out through the gliding thick neck, right out of the diamond armour like jagged blades, smooth, perfect, red veins webbed between them, glinting blood in the pale red of the dawn. It climbed down the neck, serpentine, smooth, climbing over the rubies down the leviathan and up its face, jagged and raw, crude and dark. Black smoke swirled around its tethers, like the towering black crags.

Wings doomed as bloody, torn sails.

_Not from this world._

At the end of the serpentine body, between the climb of its gargantuan, bloody wing, licking in the flames of the spitting lava, was a head, a large head, nestled along the high bridge, as red and bloody as it's ogre body; it was slanted down, pointing towards the roiling fires, its snout long and red, thick around as the hull of a ship. It was a work of art, bone over bone, red skin, rubied scales, glinting as they travelled over the mammoth bones, sharp and angular, curved in such elegance, sloping like great hills; its nose bridge was thick, a flat plain of glinting red, wide hills of blood creeping up towards jagged thorns, black bones. It was just a field, a field of red, of blood, separating away into a pair of whiskers, eyebrows, thick, dark, curling above, wrinkled with harsh leather. The scales were lesser here, the skin creeping back over glinting rubies like waves on a beach, red and bloody as the dawn smoke; there were such ridges, such dark refined ridges, hills, mountains, red crests along scales and skin, the cheeks dark hollows beyond the nose, sunken in, daggers piercing. Bones littered the sharp frame, jutting out of skin, clean, perfect, long and angular as it dug down, towards the lava, so long, so massive, the snout reaching out, so red, so raw. Each ridge was a mountain, hills of scales and skin; nostrils were dark, black, abyss, black smoke puffing like whispering dark, lingering over wrinkled lips, daggers glinting quiet at the jaw, dancing with fiery lights. Scales winked like red stars, skin red and tough, dark as blood and…

And it had scars.

Hundreds of scars.

_Not from this world._

All around its face, its beautiful, dark face, creeping like whispers, jagged and raw, were scars, deep scars, long scars, rivers of marked flesh and torn scales rippling dark against ruby skin; it was livid, like the colour of bloody liver, streaking through the daunting, majestic face, tearing like haunting claws in rolling red crests. Dark and haunting they were, long, jagged scars of dark over jaw, creeping up into the mouth, swallowed away by massive lips; they were everywhere, climbing along slithering neck, shredding through webbed wings, shrieking through scales like ravines of rushing rivers, dark as rust, deep crevices breaking through red skin and mesh veins, brutal, merciless, monsters through bloody hills. Muscles rippled beneath the disfigurements, the marks, wounds of battle past stretching along glittering hills, so long, so deep, streams as deep to my knees, remnants of claws, of fangs and teeth, flesh torn, dismembered, jagged, gaping holes here and there like a mine field, hills of destruction, of torture, of wins and blood. Nicks were as wide as rivers, dark bottoms, torn banks; up above, beyond the long, glorious snout and beneath a drooping, dark brow, the beast's right eye was gone, just a mess of bulging, red flesh, three dragged scars clawed over the socket, a hollow pit of red skin, the jagged marks, the scars, glinting dark in the fires of the frothing magma. They were not too deep, not as deep as the one on its flaming jaw; but the eye was gone, completely gone, a hollow of red skin, free of scales, ugly and brutal, a remnant of forgotten wars, a scar for eternity.

The dragon that was blind in one eye.

With the other watching.

_Not from this world._

It was a single eye.

A silent eye.

Beneath the dark lids, the crinkling skin, among the weathered scales and jagged scars, the beast's eye watched without a word, silent, dark, a flash of fires, a peek of hell. It was horrible, so very horrible, an eye from the very bowels, from the deepest core, burning like a flame, burning through me; it was ember, a burning ember, its pupil a black slit of abyss gleaming out of smouldering flames, so hot, so bright, so, so very dreadful. Flames flickered where the white should have been, dark flames, stormy flames, like the heart of a volcano bursting forth through that giant eye, a long, massive slit of burning hate above the curving red cheek. Fires burned, alive and raw, gleaming through the whirling black like a star set in the night sky. Flames licked in silence, blank without a thought.

_Dead._

I was staring into hell's eye.

And hell was staring right back at me.

I couldn't breathe.

_Not from this world._

_Not at all._

I ran.

I didn't know where to go, I didn't know where to look; I turned and I ran, ran away, my dusty, bloody hair whipping through the hot flaming world as my body turned without consent, my legs kicking into action. Lava spit before me, burning, churning, flaming in the sky with black smoke, lapping against black bones; but I turned, and I ran, feet grinding against black, knees moaning in agony as I tore through the swirling heat. Black crags towered all around, the monster watching my back, silent, quiet, its eye like a flaming inferno, a horror, a savage-

And all I could feel was my heart, pounding, my blood surging, my tongue swirling with heat, my mind completely numb, fear, terror gripping me, panic roiling through my veins, shredding me to bits. I couldn't breathe, not really, everything so hot and bright, black smoke churning overhead, laughing, mocking, my head screaming and screaming and screaming and begging and screaming…

And why shouldn't I?

I saw a dragon, after all.

A silent, one-eyed, scarred hell-sworn dragon.

_The devil in the flesh._

The world was roaring, roaring with a buzz, creaking through the wind, my breath pounding in my ears as I ran and ran, so desperate, so very desperate, the entire world raining flames all around me and-

_And I have to get out of here!_

_I have to get out of here!_

_I have to escape!_

_I have to escape!_

_I have to!_

_I have to run!_

_I must run!_

_It's going to get me!_

_I must run!_

_I'm going to die!_

_I must r-_

And then, there was black rock.

_Thud._

My body slammed, slapping against it like a piece of flesh against a slab of concrete, pain jolting through me, through my very bones; for some reason, in all my bloody panic, I had not seen it, and gone crashing face first into the smooth, dusty face of black rock, dust scratching against my skin, abrasions red and slight. My nose scratched, and my head hit with a loud thud, snapping back my neck as I squinted my eyes shut and staggered back, skin pulsing from the sudden impact-

And I looked up.

All the way up.

Before, towering like a shadow, was one of those slim pinnacles of a mountain, the rock before me slanting upward, inclining black, reaching up towards the skies, black smoke encircling like vultures, so tall, so very dark. I had to crane my head all the way back just to see the very edge, almost hidden in the churning black, rock sharp, jagged, tearing up into the black skies, a mountain right before my eyes. It was the taller of the others, looming just a few feet higher into the black and red world, smoke a' choking, a' strangling; on either side of me, the mountains pierced, stabbed, reaching up into the torrid skies, grim, dark, looking down upon the swirling inferno like monsters, guardians, silent and horrible, so ugly, so dark. Rocks gleamed firelight, towering, watching, bleak and harsh, forbidding masters, lava rushing like flaming blood; the mountain before me, the seemingly tallest, was at the edge of this flaming inferno, of this mountain range, of this valley of fires, sitting like the head of a fiery court, the king in a world of looming, dark crags. Black dust wafted down like dark robes, a king of a dead court, of hell, standing tall, standing dark, a menacing majesty looking down on all with silent eyes-

With the Enfal Tree as it's crown.

Clouds churned, thick and black, bubbling, frothing like a dark sea high above in the red world.

Lava spitted and hissed, sputtering flames, sputtering smoke, heat panging like the inferno of hell itself.

Wings creaked through the roiling black.

_Not from this world._

There, at the top of the mountain, at the very edge, at its summit that curled outward, away from the island, The Enfal Tree sat in silence, the fiery flames of the hot ocean leaping upon its smooth branches, the black rock so very dark, a far blip of black high above in the swirling mess. It's branches reached up like black claws, smooth black claws, its twisty, knobby body perched at the very tip of the summit like a lighthouse, roots poking out of the rock, streaming down, loose, rocky limbs, so still, so black over the edge of the crag. Black rock gleamed like a flaming night, a dot of glowing black, and as it sat there, amidst the black smoke, amidst the whirling war, upon that high summit, so far up in the sky, half of its black face seemed to be tinged in the red of the dawn, it's northern face glowing crimson like a beating heart.

As if up there, under its branches, one could see the real world again.

_Not from this world._

My head screamed.

_And why shouldn't I?_

_This wasn't making sense, after all._

_Not a flick of sense._

With a loud hot breath, my heart pounding, my lungs crying, I turned around again, dropping my head away from the blimp of the Enfal Tree, turning back towards the inferno; it was a valley, a valley of choking lava, of fires, black crags a dark fence all around, the middle of shallow sea of sputtering flames-

With the dragon, sitting right in the middle of it all, it's eye glowing like the depths of hell.

_The devil in the flesh._

I couldn't think.

I couldn't think.

Not a thought.

Where was I?

What was this place?

My heart raced, pounding through my chest, my blood surging…

And all I could see was the valley of flames, the looming mountains, and the quiet dragon, watching, silent like the frothing smokes.

_The devil in the flesh._

I couldn't think.

I couldn't think.

Not a thought.

Where was I?

What was this place?

How was any of this even possible?

I couldn't feel my tongue, my legs numb, all the pain, all the blood pointless, fires leaping high into the black-

And it was as if a crater had come down on us.

_Didn't it?_

That, or the rock had simply collapsed beneath us-

This were the same cliffs, wasn't it?

These mountains, these black crags….

They were the cliffs, weren't they?

They were the black desert, the swirling, black dust-

That had somehow, by some means, gone from a flat, featureless plain of dreading, silent black, into a valley of stabbing monsters.

It was as if the earth had collapsed, and the rock had moved, changed, breaking apart into mountains, so high up in the sky, separating, dividing, pulling away from another as they morphed into torrid beast, horrid masters-

With a valley of flames as it's heart and soul.

And the dragon, of course.

_The devil in the flesh._

It was just sitting there, watching me with that eye, its scars gleaming dark, its burning, glowing chest of glimmering scales heaving up and down in powerful breaths, wings stretched out to the sky in a lazy sprawl, leather creaking, bones moaning, red veins crisping through bloody leather, red skin beaming like a thousand rubies, the black smoke sputtering all around it, fiery souls howling, screaming in that hellion eye-

_Will._

"CIRCE!" it was more of a shriek then a yell, a cry, a beg, like a child calling out to its mother, my chest panging with bloody stabs; I couldn't stop looking, staring, that eye, that singular hell watching me without a word, my blood pulsing, my head screaming. My throat felt so raw, so very raw as the scream clawed out of me, echoing across the spitting waves, the glowing embers, the dark rocks, bouncing about the valley, about the hell, a tortured cry, a beg from the deepest of my very being. My head felt so heavy, so, so heavy, tilting back against my neck, resting upon my shoulders like dead weight, the skies above snarling, biting, magma growling, titan watching like without a single sound…

And somewhere, behind me, a voice whispered through the burning dark.

"Little one."

It was Circe; she was there, sitting upon one of the black ridges at the sides of the mountains, a jagged rock, a cleft, small cliff, perching out of the mountain near it's base, a meter or two of the rolling, spitting magma. It was a black perch, a small balcony over the leaping valley, safe from the fires down below-

And she was sitting upon it, back straight, head high, her demure feet hanging over the sputtering glow, blackened with dust, rusty with blood. Blue silk was dark in the swirl of the world, a ghastly, sickly dark, flaying out against the black dusty rock as she set on the edge of the ridge, her elegant hands clutching against the torrid sides. Light reflected as her feet kicked about casually, a song, a dance, lazy and free, her dark hair trickling down her shoulders in a messy swirl of black, thick and clotted, their shine gone, dark as the smoke. Dark eyes, stones of black, stared out across at me as the demi-goddess sat above the licking flames and swung her feet, like a child, trinkets of black thick with black soot.

She was smiling.

_Not from this world._

I ran.

"Circe!" I screamed her name again, glaring at her face, at her dark hair, her swinging feet, her casual, simple smile, kicking off the base off the mountain without another thought. Dust flurried about as I ran off, towards her, the flaming eye at the corner of my vision, a star in a world of smoke and flame; the ground sloped as I ran, dust flying, the hard rock sliding down towards the burning flames, the sea of lava that was the heart of this hell, the home of the monster. Heat panged, choked as my lungs heaved at each step, my thighs burning, my knees quaking, my bones shuddering as boots thundered like booming drums, each step a jolt, a scream, black skies laughing as I ran, and ran and ran-

And stopped a few feet away from Circe, along the sloping black hill, the gurgling lava glowing like millions and millions of stars below, so hot, so very bright, sputtering and laughing, rolling rivers, whooshing seas. Lava tumbled like churning waterfalls, glorious scorching waterfalls.

The monster was silent.

Circe smiled.

_Not from this world._

"Hello darling," her voice was a coo as my feet stuttered to a stop below her, near the edge of the spitting ocean, the medicine man's eye jingling in my curls, sweat so crimped and crisp on my skin, her eyes like orbs of pure, unmolested darkness, "Did you break anything?"

My heart was pounding through my skull.

_Will._

I could feel the eye's hellion gaze.

"What?"

I could barely hear my own voice.

"Are you hurt?"

"Am I…THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT-"

"On the contrary, if you are too hurt, then you really aren't in any condition to fight any-"

"Get me out of here!" I howled, glaring up at her, my fiery gaze switching from her blank smile to that single eye, watching away in the distance, wings slowly creaking up in a stretch, flames licking against rubied red. It was still just sitting there, in the middle of the flaming sea, smoke roiling, lava spitting…

And watching.

The dragon was just watching.

Just watching.

_Will._

Sweat dripped like blood.

"I'm sorry, little one, but I can't," she said it simply enough, swinging her feet, her dusty, bloody feet, her dress stained with blood and dirt, torn here and there, streaks of dust across her ebony skin, her smile like a forgotten dream, "Here you must stay."

Black smoke laughed.

_Will._

Stay.

Stay.

Stay-

"ARE YOU INSANE?"

"Actually-"

"Right. I forgot. You _are _insane-"

"Fate calls for you to be here, child-"

"WE'RE IN HELL-"

"Actually, we're still on the island."

_Will._

I couldn't tell if I was mad.

I couldn't tell if I was just plain terrified.

I couldn't even tell what I was feeling.

Nothing.

Nada.

Just the swirling black smoke, the choking dark hands, the towering, grim peaks, the spitting, rolling waves of thick, searing lava, glowing like the stars…

_And it._

"Circe," I just stared at her, at her swinging dirty feet, at her streaked skin and messy silk dress, at her laughing black curls, and black, black eyes, my throat choked with the urge to look back, to look once more into that eye, into that monstrous eye, that smouldering flames, that burning embers, that howling souls…

_That hell._

"What is it?"

Circe turned her head.

For a moment, I just stared up at her, as she stared over the swirling, flaming sea, her dark hair flipping, curling in the dark smoke, firelight dancing about her elegant body, like nebulas in the skies of above, laughing like children, dancing like mirth. Her smile sang like far-away stars.

My eyes felt thick with tears.

_Tears of fear, of anger, of pain…_

_I don't know which._

_I don't know anymore._

_I don't know._

My heart boomed like drums.

My lungs heaved hot and bright.

My blood screamed, pulsing, raging, stormy rivers of fiery magma.

Blood dripped.

_I don't know._

_I don't know._

_I don't know-_

Then, Circe spoke, her words stealing away very breath of the world.

"Rygor, Dragon of the Underworld."

_Rygor._

_Rygor._

_Rygor the Dragon._

_Rygor._

_Rygor._

"Rygor?"

I couldn't hear anything.

"The Scarred One."

_The Scarred One._

_The Scarred One._

_Rygor the Dragon._

_Rygor, The Scarred One._

_Rygor The Scarred._

_Rygor._

_Rygor._

_Rygor._

"Scarred?"

I couldn't think.

Not a thought.

_Rygor._

"Just like you."

The world burned.

**Well, guys, short one, but I'm going to write the other one real soon. Only about 3 more chapters to the end, you see. Anyhow, thanks for the reviews and please leave any comments that you have! See you next time!**

**XOXO**


	51. The Battle Of Rygor

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**I just jumped into this one guys, mainly because I just couldn't figure out a way to start it. I hoped it work. Anyhow, enjoy!**

**Chapter 48: The Battle Of Rygor**

_Earth._

Thighs burned, like fire rippling through my muscles, my legs, streaming flames burning through my skin, my bones, ablaze as they rose up, and then down, pain smouldering, jolting, burning away my limbs to dust.

_My home._

My arms were so heavy, so very heavy, hanging on my sides, thick as lead, fire burning against skin, melting away, fingers clawing into ragged scorching air, nails bitten, pleading, scraping against the boiling air, begging to bloody smoke.

_The place where I was born._

Lungs burned, burned aflame, an inferno, so hot, so fiery, smouldering against my chest, blazing up my throat like a river of flames, torching, flaming, my very breath a roiling smoke, blaze flickering between my lips, so hot, so very hot.

_The place where I will die._

I ran.

It was lying there, a gleaming lance, a silver streak through black rock, a dash of light in a dead world; it was just there, caught between those rocks, black dust scattered across the glowing metal, the shimmering silver, a line, a band, bright gold gleaming through crumpled dust, burning like torching flames. Above it, the mountains loomed, black, dark, shadows piercing through black storms, yet it still gleamed, a stripe of pure silver, shinning like a moon beam, caught in a crack, the red ruby dancing with the flames of the hissing lavas….

And all I could do was run.

"Kill him!"

All around me, the world burned, an inferno, a conflagration, a torching bonfire for the skies, for the black, black skies, smoke rolling like a storm, churning, laughing, black peaks piercing, towering like dark giants, majestic and contemptible, depraved beings-

But I couldn't care.

I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

It was just there, gleaming through the dark, calling, screaming my very name-

The world roared.

_Oh God._

Hot wind rushed, slamming, punching me down-

Black dust swirled, streaking into the air-

Dark shadow fell-

And then, something grabbed me.

It just plucked me off the ground, thick, cold things, reaching up from the whirling dark and clenching around my body, so cold, so tight, crushing me as my feet left the ground, my body shrieking in panic, in raw, bloody screams. Smoke swallowed me, black, black world, my fingers clawing, begging, tears thick and red-

It threw me.

All I could do was scream, scream and scream and scream as the world rushed all around me, black and red tearing across my world, wind hot, smoke hot, colours flying by as I fell through the air, black clouds looming above, grinning, laughing, death pulling me into it's cold, cold arms….

_Crack._

Pain exploded as I hit against slanted rock, piercing pain, horrid pain, my entire body crashing down onto scattered dust like rattling bones, slamming home, thick and loud, pain engulfing me, drowning me, burning me away. Skin flamed, bones screamed, my skull slammed down against the black rock, sorrow wringing me in its bloody claws, torturous screams-

I kept falling.

I screamed, and screamed, reaching out, up towards the black clouds-

But I was falling, rolling, black rock pulling me as I fell over my back, and over my face, again and again, pure, pure pain, horrid pain, black dust choking down my throat, thick and hot, embers of dust- breaking, cracking, tearing, gnawing, clawing, biting, killing-

I landed.

_Crack._

"Get up!"

Before me, the blood pooled, red with black, fine black, stabbing black, flickering like gems in torching light, so harsh, so cruel, clawing against my skin, laughing like demons. Eyelashes dragged against scattered sand, clotted, bloody, red tears dripping like falling stars, twinkling in that sliver of burning light, the dust so hot, so very hot-

"Get up!"

The world was so hazy, so very hazy, the dust swirling against my cheeks, my eyes, my blood, my tongue so bitter, so very bitter, raw, cold, metal, so, so red. Sulphur screamed like swirling mist, sulphur and blood, sour and metal, their aromas so fresh, so hot, heat roiling, licking like wind. Light wavered, gleaming like a far away star-

"Joey, get up!"

I couldn't think, not even a thought, every word like a blur, each memory so very far, a mist, a haze, numb, cold as ice. Tears were so salty, so very salty, blood like forgotten dreams, dripping down on black dust, burning like lavas, like spewing flames, so red, so, so red-

"Joey!"

I moved.

_Will._

It was agony, the most horrible agony, pain exploding through my every limb, muscle, veins, bones, lancing through my very soul, tearing me to shreds; it exploded like a roar of flames, torching through my body, such terrible pain, such terrible flames, ripping me apart, eating me alive. It was a torture, a pure sorrow, muscles twinging, bones aching, a stab through every single cell, through my brain, slashing pain, slitting blood, thick, red, raw, my skin roiling and twisting, tremoring, shuddering. Every breath, every thought was thick and hot and red, dripping with every blood, death clawing me to dust-

_Will._

I was screaming, just screaming, crying against the dark rocks, tearing against the cluttered dust, laments, begs, blood spilling, thick, alive, pain chopping me away, cutting me away, consuming me as I screamed and screamed and screamed and cried-

_Will._

It was as if the skin had been peeled off me, strip by strip, every shred, every inch burning away, melting away, pain banging against brittle bones, tearing, gnawing, vicious creatures devouring me alive, destroying me forever-

It roared.

_Will._

In the pain, in all that horrid pain, tears glazing over, blood thick and raw, I stopped screaming, choking back that tearing lament as I turned my head, pain clawing away, gnawing away; the lava was right there, right beside me, fire bubbling like frothing waves, lapping and licking, smoke sputtering black, falling rivers of liquid flames. It was no more then a meter away from the outcropping rock that I writhed upon, the shallow pool of burning flames, glowing bright, glowing hot, the heat tremoring all around, pressing like a choker down upon my wrecked body. Pain moaned as the fires laughed, mocking flames, so bright, so hot, my skin melting off my very skin, sweat and blood rolling down, dabbing on dusky dust. Fire hissed like snakes, blobs of flames igniting over the shallow sea, smoking and foul, the pain tearing away, consuming me completely…

He was watching me.

He was there, just there, crouched beyond the shore before me, dark and red and beautiful; the flames licked along its bloody bones, thick leaping flames, sputtering smoke gliding along the angled bones, the massive bones, scales glinting like rubies in the black, black smoke. He was mammoth, so very mammoth, looming above like a bloody mountain, a towering crag of gore towards the churning black world; spears of bones tore his skin, through his neck, his spine, and face, so long, so sharp, stabbing through the swirling black world, dancing with the roiling flames, razor sharp and raw, harsh against the dying world. Neck muscles rolled, strong and thick, scales gleaming like far away gems, so red, so raw, cracking at each breath, rippling like red water as the behemoth breathed in and out, thick and strong, waves of glittering red, trembling with the shivering fires of the lapping waves. Scales creaked, laughing flames.

He was watching me.

His wings were so immense, so colossal, a giant field of glistening red, thin leather webbed with bloody veins like rivers in a wild country. It was so very huge, its bony ridges true and thick, little hills, the monstrous wings spreading from rocks to rocks, smoke sputtering beneath, talons of sharp white piercing out of its edges; they were wings of beauty, wings of strength, looming above the valley of flames, stretching from crag to crag, a pair of giant beats hovering above like thick clouds of red, fat and strong, beautiful bloody worlds. Muscles rippled as they flapped slowly, beating in the air, the thick hot air, gushes of air hitting against rocks, so strong, so hot; everything seemed to be alive with flames, the wings a field of burning red, scales glinting away like millions and millions of rubies, flaming with the hissing magma. His chest burned like a glowing hearth, heaving with each breath, with each beat, and below them, his legs stretched massive and strong, disappearing pillars of red into strewing, spitting fires, laughing jewels, mocking red. His leviathan tail rocked back and forth, a long, scaly tail, glinting like the stars, spikes of white sticking out of his body, his skin, dancing with the light of the swirling, fiery sea, a massive tail, a river of red, rocking across the valley like a giant pendulum, smoke spitting, roiling black. Limbs groaned under the massive weight, gleaming thick in the leaping flames.

He was watching me.

His mouth was open, gaping open, his thick snout pointing out towards the black skies, ridges and hollows rolling with muscles, daggers flaring sharp; his teeth were horrid, absolutely horrid, long fangs of bloody white tearing up down from his jaw in jagged peaks, long as my leg, thick as my bust, gleaming harsh in the blackened dawn. Saliva treaded between those glistening peaks, silver salvia, thick and wet; there were nothing behind those savage teeth but a burning glow, a leaping glow of ember and gold. No tongue, no palate; just a light, a harsh light, a terrible light, fires burning, laughing in flames, like the pits of hell calling forth the world. Shadows moved, and the light glowed, so bright, so hot, so quiet, a gleaming glow, a terrible glow, ember bright, churning like flames, choking my heart, dusting it to ash. Storms of fires raged, torrid teeth gleaming red-

It was hell.

The very gates of Hades itself.

Hell.

Hell.

_Hell._

He was watching me

He was watching me.

He was watching me with that eye, that single eye, scars burning dark rivers, embers of bright, of hell, screaming souls of the tortured dead-

And he was watching me.

Just watching me.

_Rygor._

"Joey!"

I was dreaming.

I had to be.

There were no such things as dragons, after all.

No such things as hellions like him.

No such things as Rygor.

_Rygor._

Only in a dream would such a monster exist.

Only in a dream would such pain exist.

Only a dream.

A dream.

_A nightmare._

"Joey!"

I wasn't awake.

I couldn't be.

This was all a dream.

All of it.

Circe was just a dream.

Nothing more than that.

Balder was just a dream.

Nothing more then that.

Metus was just a dream.

Nothing more then that.

Rygor was just a dream.

Nothing more then that.

Will was just a dream.

Nothing more-

"Joey!"

She was standing, on the opposite bank, beneath the black, malevolent crag that was crowned with The Enfal Tree, its shadow thrown back along its black edges mighty and proud, a malicious black giant; she was but a dot, but in the daze of my pain, of the throbbing and the ache and the dripping blood, she was there, standing near the edge of spitting pool, dark hair trickling like the fallen night. Blue silk burned in the wind, as the fires hurled and churned near her feet, glowing like the stars, catching her light of her dark, dark eyes as they glared over at me, her dark body blending into the world, a spirit in the midst. Her voice rang through like a shrill in the jagged valley.

All I could feel was pain.

Horrible pain.

_Merciless pain._

"Joey!"

She had my sword, my saviour, gleaming in the dark by her side, leaping with the light of the dancing flames like the tongue of hell, bridled by that beautiful gold, the red ruby winking from the distance like a star, up in the darkest night. Her fingers were clenched around the metal, the glinting gold, the lightning blade pointing down against the rock as it trembled in the flames-

And the monster just watched me, his single eye blinking slowly, burning, spitting, the very gates of hell, pain shredding and tearing and biting and gnawing, clawing me to ash, to dust, consuming me forever-

All I could feel was pain.

Horrible pain.

_Merciless pain._

_Pain that wouldn't go away._

_Pain that never ended._

_Pain that ripped me apart, tore me to shreds._

_Pain that ate me away, burning me, destroy-_

"Elor!"

It was the strangest word I had ever heard and in that dizzying, spiralling world of blood and pain, I thought I had imagined it, somewhere, in the farthest recesses of my mind. It was Circe's voice, no doubt of it, but a word that I hadn't before, a word that seemed so out of place, so strange and foreign among the towering black kings and leaping, smouldering flames; it was a dream perhaps, a hallucination, my sanity finally leaving as the pain spread in a numbing ache, paralysing, silencing, stinging and aching and screaming with bolts and bolts of tremendous agony-

"Elor!"

She had the sword above the head, blood dripping off my chin and onto the dusty roads in slow, thick drops, calm and steady, fires burning throughout my body, never-ending, never-ceasing; the blade was clenched in both hands, a bar of silver above her head, an act of surrender perhaps, light gleaming, light dancing, light laughing, mocking away. Her voice echoed off the dusty cliffs, rolling over the sputtering smoke.

Rygor turned.

It was like a mountain had turned its head, its massive long neck rolling bloody as it twisted away from my wrecked form and towards Circe, spikes gleaming like cold daggers, dancing with flames. Scales cracked and moaned, radiant rubies as the beast turned its massive head, teeth shuddering like giant metal bars, eye glowing away, turning away, earth groaning in protest. Lava spitted as the behemoth looked away, black smoke hot and fiery out of his soaring nostrils, muscles rippling like bloody waves as he turned away-

And glared directly at Circe.

"Elor!"

I couldn't feel my left arm.

_Will._

And then she was screaming, screaming in a language I couldn't understand, screaming in a language that did not exist, words lost as her voice echoed off the rolling crags and churning magma, blade gleaming like a sliver of hope. Sharp notes they were, but weird, words that I had never heard before, words that were not any known language; there was too much pain, too much blood to hear anything, to bother about anything, but she was screaming, screaming away her very life-

She screamed my name.

I barely had time to look up, away from the dust, the blood, the torture, the giant demon gleaming red and raw in the burning fires of the valley, tail swinging like a whale harpoon bloody to the steak-

There was a flash of silver, flying through the churning black clouds-

Wind whizzed against my ear-

Blood rolled, thick and hot-

And then, just like that, Balder's sword flew through the air to stab into the earth right before my eyes, landing with a thud. Dust flew as metal cut deep into black rock, its edge buried in the granite like a perfectly thrown harpoon. It had happened so fast, and so loud, slamming into the earth, stabbing into the rock, a blade of silver shuddering under the impact as it stuck out of the ground, a pinnacle of wavering metal. Light danced as the trembling blade glowed, beautiful, a dying star of hope-

Circe screamed.

It wasn't a word, none of her strange words.

No.

Just a scream.

A dying scream.

_Circe._

Beyond the rock, beyond the gleaming sword, beyond the spitting flames and roiling smoke and churning pain, Rygor moved, his massive body gleaming like a thousand stars, muscles ripping, scales glinting, lava sloshing gold as his hind legs moved with such impressive strength and speed, a titan through the flames-

He grabbed Circe.

It wasn't with his talons, as he had with me, but with his mouth, his giant jaw, his horrid teeth, his long, bloody neck arching down as his jagged, ogre teeth clamped down over her, black smoke puffing, screams shrieking into night. I couldn't see clearly, not in this light, not in this pain, but he had her, her dress gleaming blue between his ravine teeth, her screams like laments of souls from the deepest bowels of hell-

Without a sound, the monster picked her up, lifting her yelling form off the ground, stuck somehow in his teeth, silent and quiet, strangely graceful, majestic even-

And then, he ate her.

It was a stretch, the head cocking back, gleaming red, screams shredding through the valley as the neck stretched straight, single eye staring up at the black, black clouds-

He parted his teeth-

And Circe was gone, tumbling down beyond those jagged bones, blue silk flying, dark hair crying, body disappearing beyond the bloody jowls and into the mouth, eaten alive. Flames consumed her, the light blinking away her existence, the flaming inferno of the hellion's mouth flashing awake, like ignited stones, the embers roaring to life behind the teeth as the witch fell away to hell.

Rygor The Scarred had eaten Circe, the daughter of Calypso.

Circe was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

_Dead._

The beast swallowed, a lump travelling behind his skin on his neck, scales gleaming like rubies and rubies, chest burning with that warm, toxic flame-

And Circe was dead.

Dead.

_Dead._

No more Circe.

No more witch.

No more stupid riddles.

No more stupid words.

No more shrilling madness.

No more thrilling voice.

No more Circe.

No more.

Dead.

Dead.

_Dead._

How was it possible?

How was it real?

How could Circe be gone?

How could be dead?

What was fair about that?

What was fair?

Circe, the witch.

Circe, the demi-god.

Circe, my friend.

Dead.

_Dead._

Just like that.

Gone.

Forever.

Circe was dead.

Circe was gone.

Like a dream.

Like she had never been there.

Like she never existed.

Gone.

Taken.

Dead.

_Dead._

I closed my eyes, away from the world, from the madness, from the pain, heart clenched away in tearing anguish; she was gone, forever, dead before I could even say goodbye. She was taken, taken by the darkness, by the black, by the swirling, calling black, dust hot against my torn skin, pain panging like forgotten memories, tears red against my cheeks….

Because she was gone.

Because she was dead.

Dead.

Forever.

_Dead._

There was nothing left now.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

No world.

No souls.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Circe was gone.

Will was gone.

My father was gone.

Johnny was gone.

I was gone.

I was dying.

I was leaving.

There was nothing now.

Nothing left.

Nothing left but fires and smoke.

Nothing left but blood and dust.

Nothing left but the cold darkness of death-

_No._

It was a word, a single word, resounding in my head, loud and clear, so calm, so quiet, so utterly beautiful in the echoes of my mind. It was nothing more then a word, a simple word, thrilling through my bones, clearing my thoughts, so soft, so quiet yet loud among the chaos, snuffing out the madness, hushing like the sea. It was as if a light had sprung up in my head, a glorious bright light, the word ringing through my very existence-

And it wasn't Balder.

Not Balder.

The monster's roar was like the end of the world, a deafening howl, a trembling force, splitting through the churning smoke, groaning through the dusty rock, lava spitting, hissing, a vile hell rocking to the sounding call of the dragon. Thunder rumbled through my ears, loud and clear, snuffing out all noise, all sense, a wave of screaming terror, of savage brutality riding along with the panging pain. Lights flashed, blinding red, fires laughing, screaming, maniacs in the roaring night-

No.

Not Balder.

Not him.

The air was so foul, so very foul, thick and black and soot, sulphur spewing black, fumes of dark choking down my nose, my throat, strangling away at my neck, snuffing me away. The back of my throat was on fire, but so was the rest of my body, the roar splitting my ears away, the heat burning my skin, heart raw, lungs thick, pain so tight, so very tight around my every cell, bones screaming, blood dripping thick and red on the dancing sands-

Not Balder.

Not him.

No.

_It was me._

I crawled.

Crawled.

That was all I could do.

That was all I could even try.

Crawled; my right hand moved first, folding out from beneath me slowly, creaking awake, blood rushing as I reached forward, fingers trembling, igniting in flames. They were trembling so bad, shivering so much, pain lancing through each finger, each bone, each cell, blood pulsing with mortifying ache, fingers clawing forth as I reached and dug into the black sands, burning to ashes-

Because that was all I could do.

Crawl.

I could only crawl.

_It was me._

The fingers pulled, and my body screamed, shrieking, pain shooting through my bones, my veins, lancing like fires, torrid and red; every part of me hurt, every inch, my legs so heavy as they dragged against the dusty sands, so very heavy, thick and dead, lifeless, numb with ache, muscles completely useless, skin melting away. I couldn't feel my left arm, strayed across the rock, cold and lifeless, the blood dancing with the leaping glows, something protruding out of the skin, so numb, so cold, as if it were no longer there, no longer my arm-

Because it was broken.

Because it was ruined.

Destroyed.

_It was me._

I ignored the pain, the pulling pain, the creeping, tearing pain, teeth gritting, head screaming, the fingers digging and pulling, taking my entire weight, so raw, so bloody against the dusty sands, skin screaming, blood boiling, heart spasming with torture, with agony, each breath like a rope tight around my throat, crushing me away-

Because I was bleeding.

I was dying.

I was torn and broken and ruined and destroyed…

_It was me._

He roared.

With a scream, I threw myself over the last few paces, ignoring the pain, ignoring the horrible pain, throwing my entire weight across the bloodied sands…

And grabbed the hilt of the sword, fingers red and torn, digging into glowing gold. Metal burned against ravaged skin as I clutched at it, grabbing it, holding it, the yell wrenching from my lips as blood met the glimmering gold, pain screaming away into the black skies-

Light exploded.

_Me._

I snapped my head down, shielding my eyes, but there was no stopping it; a light, a brilliant light, a bright, gold light exploded throughout the world, a bomb, a nuclear bomb, wind rushing, lights blinding, heat scorching away every dark, every depth, an explosion, a blast, so bright, so hot, right before my eyes. It was as if a star had exploded before me, an inconceivable star, indescribable, the soaring colours of magnificent gold resounding through the world, untamed, wild, killing every dark, every shadow. It was so beautiful, so very beautiful, black grains reflecting embers, lights like that of paradise, of rapture, ecstasy of flaming gold scorching through the world, so intense, so vivid, beaming like the very core of the sun itself-

It consumed me.

Heat surged, exploded, and there, crawled on that dusty shore, surrounded black mountains and fiery seas, hands clutched around the shimmering hilt, it took me, heat and fire rushing through my blood, through every cell. It was the same warmth I had always felt when I touched the blade, the same strength but it was so much stronger now, so much more alive, blasting, flashing, rivers of tumultuous heat pumping through my veins, hot and roiling, thick as lava. It was as if my entire body had ignited in flames, my fingers burning away to crisp, every cold, every pain annihilate like cold in fire, subdued, wiped out, crushed like waves over foliage, defeated as the flames roared, cried, screaming around my body, warming my every cell. There was no more pain, just like that, like sand dusted off a piece of rock, an insect flaked away by a hand; gone, in a second, in a flash, numbing, excruciating pain devoured by roaring flames, fires, boiling from the gold to my fingers, rushing to my limbs, to my body, to my dancing, laughing heart. Something strong burned in me.

Something bright.

_Me._

There was strength in my legs, strength that wasn't there before, strength that consumed the pain, strength that lifted me up; I could feel nothing but the heat, the soaring heat, pulsing, pumping within me, blood roaring-

And then, the light was dying, snuffing away, pulling back its turning reins, flickering like a star in a black sky; it pulled back, and then I could see again, the darkness rolling back, black crag piercing back into the world as the glow of the lava sputtered back into view, the desolate valley reappearing like a turn of a page, a sheet of glass beneath the paint. Black smoke stormed into view, flames licking, pulsing with heat, red tail flickering as hellion eye watched with quiet curiosity-

And the sword was there, right in front of me, glowing so bright, so very bright; it was as if all the light that had exploded from it had pulled back to contain in its slim frame, every inch of it gleaming so hot, so brilliant. It's silver body was like a flash of lightning, right before my eyes, a stem of glowing silver stabbing into the ground, starlight captured in metal, its edges, it ridges undefined in the overflowing light, pulsing its very own beat. It was radiant, glorious, the hilt a blur of tremoring golden light, the ruby like a glowing star set just above my head, under my bleeding fingers. Light spilled, and light screamed, striking, pure, a blade of glowing silver and gold stabbing through the black earth.

A blade that belonged to me.

My blade.

My sword.

_Me._

Rygor roared.

I climbed-

And there was no pain.

I couldn't feel anything but the heat, the roiling heat, the surging heat rushing through my veins as I pulled and climbed, strength burning fires in my legs; it was as if the pain had never even been there, my thighs burning with some ferocity, with such strength, every part of me trembling with the force, with the fiery might, boots shuffling in dusty grains, sword gleaming like stars, heart pattering with fervent flames, hot, fast, alive…

And I was up, my muscles pulling me without pain, without effort, body roiling with potency, with energy, bones creaking away to stand perfectly upright. Blood dripped, trailing over skin, flesh ripped and raw, clothes stained red with war; but there was no pain, nothing but the rippling light, the scorching heat, the wondrous strength-

And the glowing blade, burning in my hands.

It stuck out from me, angled in a ready pose, at 45 degrees angle, the glowing hot gold burning like fires against my torn fingers, the blade gleaming like the silver stars; my breath was ragged, hot, every inch of me burning with such vigour, such energy, pulsing, trembling, fires surging in me, thrilling me with adrenaline, with strength, with a strange oomph that had me clenching the blade as if it were my arm, digging down into the burning metal. There was just so much energy in me, so much flaming energy, as if the whole world had ignited in soaring flames, my world, colours spinning, darkness turning, bloody waves of torching flames. Heart screamed with fiery strength.

Rygor just watched.

He was still there, in front of me, in that shallow pool of swirling flames, red tail flickering in the smoke darkness, black soot sputtering at his flaming heels; he was just as massive as he had been before the light, just as ugly, just as terrifying, a mammoth, a miscretin, a beast of epic proportions, scales gleaming fires in the world of swirling blackness. His teeth shone like razor rocks, gleaming and dark, bloodstained, fires burning behind those ivory gates, hellion eye watching, turning, embers of scorching flames, a peek into the very bowels of hell itself-

Sword burned like the sun.

_Me._

"You killed my friend."

He didn't answer.

_Good._

"Did you hear me?" there was so much strength, so much screams, thrills running through my body like streams of flames; but my voice was quiet, calm, as if in conversation with another human being, nothing important, nothing critical, just a talk in the park, blank of any emotions, "You killed Circe."

He didn't answer.

_Even better._

"You ate my friend," I was just staring at it, at him, at his massive red bulk, his spanning, looming wings, his littered scars and single red eye, watching me, primeval, ancient, a monster so silent, so quiet, as if thinking, but not speaking; there was so much energy in me, so much fires, the blade gleaming, laughing in my hands, bones screaming, heart pumping flames-

But somehow, for some reason, I was contained, restrained, held back, staring up at that monstrous eye, calm, voice completely blank. Hot blood oozed down my fiery wrists.

Rygor snorted hot black.

I couldn't breathe.

_Will._

"You know," sweat was rolling down my skin, sweat and blood, my voice blank, clean, emotionless, the monster silent and watching right in front of me, a horrid ogre, blood pumping, heart racing, body trembling with fiery vigour, the tormenting eye watching without a single word, "I never much liked her."

No answer.

_Brilliant. _

"She was irritating," muscles rippled, red, glorious muscles but I didn't care, my face blank, my voice quiet, my body trembling with the might, the fires the burned from within, blade gleaming hot in my fingers, heart surging with pumping red flames, eye watching like a close-up of hell, "Half the time, she was telling me riddles. The other half, she was just plain lying. I'm pretty sure she was insane too."

No sound.

_Lovely._

"She was insane, too, " I was talking to him, his blank face, his monstrous face, fires leaping about polished red skin, scales creaking as slithering neck trembled, wings spanned like a red sky as the fires burned behind gleaming teeth, the sword like a tongue of flame in my hand, "Quite so, even though Sparrow was somehow in love with her."

Nothing.

_Perfect._

"Now what I am going to tell Sparrow?"

He growled.

It was a low growl, a low snarl, a primeval, bestial sound, a low rumble at the core of his scaled belly, echoing over the spitting flames and against the ragged cliffs, resounding throughout the valley of flames, a threat, a warning of a gleaming eye-

I smiled.

I had no idea why, but I smiled, a crooked grin tugging at my lips as I stared at the behemoth, at its wondrous size, its glowing chest, its beautiful wings, its haunting lonely eye. It was a dark smile, a dark cold smile, slithering across my face, slow and thick, a cold, dark humour laughing in my chest, my heart screaming and raging with strength. Blood boiled as I smiled, a cruel, silent smile up at its massive talons, its gleaming red fangs as if something about his face, about this monster made me tickle with amusement.

As if something about staring at death made me smile.

_And why shouldn't it?_

_After everything, why can't I smile?_

For a moment, for the briefest of moments, we both were silent, staring at each other, human eyes up against single hellion orb, a monster against a girl. Gleaming white fangs stabbed out beyond curling red lips, hills of glinting rubies, snarling, growling down against 24 picks of omnivore white, mere grains of sands against those tortured fangs. Muscles creaked and moaned, scales gleaming, chest heaving in and out in a brilliant ember while my own human heart raced like a running horse, chest pushing and pulling, dark curls dancing upon heaving bosoms. Black smoke smited from giant, cavernous nostrils, puffing fiery smoke against hot, human breath, tainted and raw, hot like the flames. Scales gleamed like a million red eyes, against the sweating orbs sliding down tender tanned skin, hot and thick, red in the fuming world. Wings hung like red skies, hovering thick in the air, mountain to mountain, monsters, weapons, talons digging deeper into sluicing hot flames, black smoke a-stuttering-

A tear rolled.

_Will._

He roared.

With a roll of gleaming red, Rygor tossed his leviathan neck up into the skies and bellowed, roaring up into those black crags and churning smoke, splitting the skies, the world, the universe, the earth trembling beneath my feet, thunders through the fiery world-

And then, without warning, without a word, Rygor dove for me, lurching through the fiery flames, snapping forth like a cruel machine, teeth gleaming with the fires of his mouth, lonely eye burning with pure, fiery hate-

I screamed.

The blade burned in my hand, so hot, so bright, the monster charging towards me, furious, loathing, fires spitting from his mouth, eye churning with raging flames, teeth gnashing in hungry anticipation as it charged towards me-

And I lunged forward.

I couldn't control myself.

I couldn't even think.

He was just coming for me, fiery, evil, smoking and hot, a gleaming monster from the very bowels of hell-

And I ran right towards him.

_Right at him._

The scream tore from my throat.

He was so big, so great, a mammoth, a giant, a titan, wings bellowing, flames spitting, hot wind rushing, roar rumbling throughout the world, throughout my bones, teeth snarling in cruel wait, eye laughing, hideous and cruel, a monster, a ravaged beast-

My feet kicked off the cliff.

Black sand fell, knees screaming in pain, blade licking through black smoke like a silver star, fires burning, smoke churning, hair rushing as my body left the ground, kicking off, jumping, my entire weight surrendering to the fiery air-

Rygor roared, mouth gaping a fiery hole into the very depths of hell-

Yells tore my body, ravaged, broken, charging insanity-

Sword screamed bright-

I hit home.

For a second, I couldn't understand what was going on. I couldn't see, couldn't think, could hear a single thing-

And then I heard his roar, his horrified roar, his terrible roar, a pained roar, a devastated roar, rocking the world, rocking the universe, breaking everything away, destroying every single thing-

His body trashed, twisted, his roar tearing through the world, smiting everything, black smoke churning, hurling, twisting around bloodied ankles-

Wings flapped up into the black world as he screamed and screamed, the laments of a pained monster, screaming and crying, hollering up into the black mountains, shaking my every strength, my every bone-

I had stabbed him.

I don't know how, I don't know why…

But the sword was there, sunken deep into the gleaming scales, thick into this chest, tip buried deep in the thick red leather and into his heart. Fire spitted around the open wound, around the dancing sword, gleaming, laughing, red and embers twisting, spilling, the burning hearth of his chest, his heart roaring to life with such colours, with such pain-

And I just hung on, hanging against the beast, against the monster, bleeding hands tight around the fiery hilt; he was roaring, roaring so loud, so pained, red body twisting and flapping, trashing, wings rolling up and down, talons kicking against lava, against rock. Howls of agony, of bloody pain, annihilated through the world, destroying everything, screams of utter torture-

Air rushed, thick and strong, hot and fiery-

Fires exploded, lava tossing up into ruined air, smoke sputtering, choking away-

Rock detonated, soaring into the air, scattering in all directions, hard raining black-

Mountains cracked, breaking, tearing, tumbling down, boulders rushing, smiting everything in sight, giant black monsters racing away-

Smoke burst, spilling black tendrils, choking, smiting, engulfing, consuming, destroying-

Rygor roared, his body trashing, wings flapping back as the flames consumed him, engulfing him, taking him away, his screeching mouth, his hellion, torturous eye clawing up into the breaking world-

My body was falling, falling away, into the choking smoke, the blasting flames, the breaking crags, the scattering rock, fires eating me, consuming me, hell dragging me into its very depths-

The world exploded.

**That's it for now guys! Sorry this took so long to do; I had several final year projects to finish. Don't worry though; my hols just started and I have plenty of time to write. Two more chapters 'till the end of this fanfic but please don't forget about the sequel.**

**Anyhow, thanks to all of you who review my work and please send in more comments if you have anything to say about. Thanks and see you soon!**

**XOXO**


	52. Ashes

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. I only do not own the stanza in this chapter, which rightly belongs to "The Poetic Edda." **

**Ok, so this chapter was EXTREMELY hard to write, mainly because it bored me to hell. It's a lot of descriptions and thoughts so please don't hate on it; its important for the story.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 49: Ashes**

I didn't want to open my eyes.

I couldn't.

It was as if my lids had been sewn shut, threads of blood criss-crossed between the skins like fine surgical thread, shutting them tight, closing them.

It was as if every muscle in my face had died, each tendril in the lids rendered useless, incapable, limp upon my face, slabs of skin, black, black screens against my vision, leaving me blind.

Blind.

Blind.

Was I blind?

_Open your eyes._

I didn't want to open my eyes.

It was raining, that much I knew; a soft rain, a hot rain, a whirling world of falling drops beyond the darkness, beyond the blindness. The world was black, but the rain was hot, scorching hot, plopping down in soft drops, like feathers against my ravaged skin, my broken bones, my numb, numb body. It was like hot kisses, beautiful hot kisses, a strange rain in a blind world caressing against my body like a lover's touch, whispering in the soft howl of a distant wind. It didn't make a sound.

_Open your eyes, you fool._

I couldn't open my eyes.

The rock was so hard beneath me, so very hard, strong and sturdy, holding me straight; it was so silent now, so very silent, still and hard beneath my clenched fist, unmoving, dead. Dusty grains knotted between my bloody fingers, tiny and rough in the dark of my world, scratching against my skin like harsh bits of grain. It was strangely hot, like the odd hidden rain, surging dust burning against my torn knuckles, swirling against my bloody palms. Despite the strange, kissing rain, it was not wet; my blood was thick around my fingers, thick and sticky, a pool of empty nothingness, of unwanted numbness in my abyss. Pebbles blistered my ruined skin.

_Open your eyes, idiot._

I didn't want to open my eyes.

There was no sound, hardly anything, nothing but that soft moan of wind, of a distant sea wind, far away, in another world. There was nothing else though, no whispers, no calls, no soft plops of endless rain; just the blackness of my eyelids, and a whispering quiet. Rain fell like shushed whispers, odd whispers, hot against my bloody skin but quiet, so quiet, silent kisses in this blind, blind world. Rock lay still, quiet of its quacking, the wind hushed away into another place, another world, vague, hazy, like a forgotten dream. Breath murmured like a whispered tale.

_Open your eyes, god damn it._

I couldn't open my-

_**Joey.**_

I opened my eyes.

It was a blink, a hesitant blink and then I opened them, peeling them away from the flesh, from the skin, cutting away that bloody stitching, prying them awake; they were so heavy, so very heavy, the world becoming nothing more then a blinking cascade of darkness and light as the lids struggled to pull back. Light wavered like a trembling flame.

Muscles winced.

_**Joey.**_

It was an effort, a tiring, straining effort, but with a soft moan I finally pulled the eyelids back, opening my eyes once again to that desolate world, to that nightmare-

To find it all a blur.

A strange blur, a hot blur, light and shadow dancing before my eyes, leaping bounds of grey. My eyes were open, wide open but it was all still a blur, an aching blur, my muscles wincing as a hot sting blinded shape, blinded light, making everything slog together, slosh together, a palate of grey, black and white. Something hot burned, stinging like a viper, lashes fluttering up and down in obvious agitation.

Irresistible agitation.

In a reflex more then effort, I reached up a tired, strangled right hand and with another moan, wiped my eyes; with a bloody span, I dusted at my face, wiping away whatever had caught in my eyes. There was nothing wet, no hot raindrops, nothing but some strange dust curling away hot beneath my bloodied fingers. Blood stung in my nose as I wiped and rubbed-

And finally saw the world.

The grey world.

There was nothing above me but grey, a silent grey, pale grey skies stretching in every corner of my vision. It was as if there were no clouds, no sun, no sky; just an endless grey, a bleak grey, a pale, pale grey lazing across the still world, a lonely, dull drab. It was silent, so very silent, a quiet world unmoving, still, not breathing at all as it hung high above my head, a grey dome of glass. Nothing stirred, nothing breathed, nothing moved at all-

Except for the rain.

Only it wasn't rain.

_The grey world._

Up above me, among the still grey and bleak silence, falling through the dull air, trailing like whispers was black, black dust, black rain, so very black against the gloomy still skies; it was snow, black snow, falling and falling, whispering to the ground, dark as midnight against the dreary light. It was so gentle, so quiet, tender black all around; there were thousands of them, millions, a strange, quiet rain falling black to the earth, silent as the death. Still air did naught but hasten their descent, the strange rain, the black rain, falling slowly down, dancing in the grey; they were so quiet, so very quiet, an empty world weeping black tears, dreams falling away into dust. They swirled in a song, a forgotten song, the world a pure silence above my head, black dancing in grey, falling like broken stars, beau-

Beautiful.

Yes.

It was beautiful.

_Beautiful._

It was so quiet, so still, the skies cold, the rain black, a world that was not my own, a world that could not be. It was lovely, strange but lovely, a quiet, quiet world that was surely nothing more then a dream; but it was there, right above me, a world of falling black and grey, a world of utter silence.

And beautiful.

Just beautiful.

_Beautiful._

I didn't want to speak, I didn't want to move; it was a dream, surely, a strange beautiful dream, the skies above doming a dull grey, the snow, the rain falling black, dancing, whirling, completely dead. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, the air hanging quiet high above my head, a mystery, a fairy-tale, grey weeping gentle black onto ravaged stones and broken bones-

And burning.

Yes.

It was the black rain, the black snow that burned.

Without a word, without a breath, I reached upward with a single hand; bones creaked at the movement as I slowly raised my hand, my bloodied dusty hand up into the sky. It ached a little, just a little, a stirring of a numb bone waking for the day, stretching away, a pulling pain that resounded through my numb body, through my sleeping body in a low pang. Skin, bloody, torn skin entered my vision as I reached up for the skies, dust trailing down, black snow hot, scorching-

And left it there, hanging, fingers reaching up for the scattered black, the dull dome. Torn nails gleamed in whatever light there was, dried blood trailing down the knobby ridges of my ruined fingers, muscles groaning, moaning, trembling with the exertion. Black snow rained hot and fiery, quiet and dead.

Yet comforting.

Somehow, the hot black rain trailing through the dusty sky and falling all over my numbed body was somewhat comforting.

A comforting dream.

With a final effort, I pulled my hand back down and stared at it, hanging it right over my laid-back head; palm-first, it was disgusting.

Utterly disgusting.

Flesh and blood were knotted together in a dried mess, skin long gone, the palm glistening with the dried blood like a painted image. Wounds laid open and gaping, raw tender wounds, the flesh so very red, the blood so very still, cracking under the fidget of my muscles. Dusty grains had stuck onto the sticky blood, between the cracks of fingers and below the ridges, digging into my skin, black against red-

And there they were.

It was hard to differentiate them from the black sands of the rocks but there, at the tip of bloody fingers, stuck on the still-sticky blood were tiny particles of black. They were unlike the dusty grains though, softer and gentler, their pattern irregular where the sands were fixed. They came in several shapes, flats and fats, strange black snow cropping the bloody fences like wintertime. They mostly thin, gentle, frail things; pressing them against a thumb and finger, they were unbelievably soft, like the gentle hairs of a feather. There were several grey among them too, a hybrid, an array of black and grey, so soft, so delicate, a strange, strange snow dancing upon my fingertips. They burned soothingly, like embers of a fire.

_Strange._

Without another word, I moved my hand up to my nose, the strange black snow trailing up through the silent world, the dull skies still raining the odd snow, black against drab, hot against my skin. My nose dulled awake as I brought the scattered black drops to my nose, fingertips first-

And almost gagged in disgust.

It was the smell of sulphur, putrid, sickening sulphur, slamming against my nose and kick-backing my hand in reflex, shooting up into my senses; it was horrid, disgusting, bile rushing up my throat as the smell of rotten eggs kicked back into my throat. My face automatically cringed as I tried not to puke up into the skies, bile hot and fiery, stomach churning in complete repulsion, in nausea. It was as if, somehow, the smell of that revolting sulphur, those burning rotten eggs had finally snapped my body awake, jump-staring my entire system; with a loud, quick groan, I rolled over and puked out onto the dusty hands, heaving my battered numb body off my back and onto my hands, wrenching away. Bile burned, coughs attacking my bloody body as saliva spilled out of my body in a revolting mix, my stomach sick and tired and just plain horrified-

And I smelt even more sulphur.

For some reason, my body had not sensed it before but the moment I took but a whiff at it, at close distance, the entire world exploded; everything came to light, every smell, the thousands and thousands of black snow scattering all about, burning like embers on my skin stinking of that putrid rotten smell. I felt so sick, so very sick as I heaved out the last of my stomach, the smell slamming, digging, torturing me in its eerie grip, my entire body sick and wasted, completely loathing. My throat felt raw and red.

It was as if the sting of sulphur, of this strange rain was choking me, killing me with its repugnant stank.

Only it wasn't rain, of course.

Rain didn't smell like sulphur.

Rain wasn't black.

Rain didn't burn.

No.

No.

This wasn't rain.

_It was ash._

It was raining ash; it had been until now, the dotted black trailing through the quiet gloom, the dead gloom nothing more then scattered bits of hot ash, burning upon descent. It was not snow, not rain but ash, simple black ash, the common result fires, of combustion, the grey dome weeping an endless roll of flaky, tender ash. Sulphur rolled off them, raining ash, raining sulphur, raining stinging rotten eggs, the hydroxide sulphide that came with them stinging putrid and disgusting, revolting as hell; it was an ash fall, an ash rain, the grey skies falling with the fragile bits of scattered ash, of scorching ash. Everything burnt and stung.

Ash.

That was what it was.

A world of ash.

Without a word, I reached up my battered fingers and swiped at my mouth, wiping away the last of the puking mess. My stomach was still sick and weak, the smell nauseating but there was no more to wrench out, to heave out in complete disgust. My gut was empty now, completely empty, cold and alone, ashes burning down like the embers of a sky fire, hot and beautiful, blinding to the eye. I looked up at it, at the ash rain, stomach sick, body weak, eyelashes fluttering to keep the roiling dead ashes out of my eyes, sulphur hanging, thick and horrid. My tongue felt bitter and raw.

I wanted to puke again.

I wanted-

And then, I remembered.

_Oh God._

It came to me in a flash, a blinding, quick flash, like a zap of light in that dull, silent world; memories, hot and flying, speeded across my head, raced, jolting me awake just as much as that whiff of sulphur had awakened my numbed senses. Images, memories spat across like sporadic gunshots.

Memories of fire.

Memories of black rock.

Memories of spitting lava.

Memories of roiling smoke.

Memories of towering crags.

Memories of splitting pain.

Memories of pooling blood.

_Rygor._

"Oh God."

I looked up.

All around me, at all ends, surrounding in a cold, dark embrace was that valley, that valley of flames, the tall black mountains towering on all sides, reaching up like claws into the dull grey, the black ash, still and quiet, a painting of the valley of flames-

Only there no more flames.

No more fires.

_No more fire._

Before me, stretching all the way to the edge of the opposite mountain, across the large, endless valley was nothing but ash; nothing, no fires, no large sea of roiling red lavas, no waterfalls of fires, no sputtering black smoke. There was nothing, that sea of flames, that shallow wide pool of licking glowing fires gone, as if it was never there in the first place; there was just ash now, scattering ash, black ash, a wide valley full of absolutely nothing. It was just an empty plot, an empty space, a field of nothing surrounded on all sides by black, silent crags. It was enormous, yet alone, a dark field of dusty sands and falling ash, a wind-swept painting, a landscape of a forsaken world. Nothing stirred, nothing breathed except the falling hot ashes, weeping like snow onto the barren land, beautiful yet so very alone. Mountainsides spilled black ashes onto its shallow belly, a beautiful, haunting picture of a still storm, a black storm sweeping over the forsaken land. It was so very quiet.

So very silent.

There wasn't even an indication of there having been a sea of lava there, a giant pool of sputtering flames, of twisting lava, of a scorching volcano; no smouldering rocks, no dried magma. There was no smoke in sight, no dying flame, no thick trails of magma black and hardened, glowing ruddy with a fiery depth; nothing but that dusty rock and the falling ash.

Nothing but a valley of ashes.

Nothing.

No fires.

No lavas.

No smoke.

No heat.

_No Rygor._

Nothing.

Nothing but a valley of ashes.

"Impossible."

My voice came out as a crock, as a whisper up into the dull skies and dark ashes but that was the least of my concern; the valley was empty, gone, ashes and rock, a haunting dream. It was as if everything had never happened at all, as if I had imagined it all, dreamt it all.

_But that's possible, now isn't it?_

_It is very possible that I could have just dreamt it all up._

_Dreamt above the lava._

_Dreamt about the smoke._

_Dreamt about the dragon._

_About Rygor._

_Yes._

_Rygor._

_Rygor had been just a dream._

_Just a nightmare._

_Just a figment of my imagination that my insanity used against me._

_Not real._

_Not alive._

_Never was._

_None of it had happened._

_None of it._

_Circe hadn't died._

_No._

_She's not dead._

_I hadn't stabbed that dragon of course, seeing as he never existed._

_The world hadn't exploded._

_No._

_None of it._

_It isn't real._

_Not real._

_Just my imagination._

_A dream._

_A nightmare_

But even I as I thought as it, as I sat there, on that ashes, staring out into that valley, thanking the stars that it was nothing more then just a horrible nightmare-

I knew.

I knew.

It wasn't a nightmare.

It wasn't a dream.

There _was_ a sea of lava.

There _was _a flaming inferno.

There _was_ a churn of black smoke.

There_ was_ a hellion dragon.

A scarred dragon.

Rygor.

There was Rygor.

It was real.

It had all happened.

Circe had died.

She was gone.

Balder's sword has saved my life.

I had used it to save my life.

Rygor-

I had stabbed Rygor.

I had stabbed him in the chest and he-

He was gone.

It was all gone.

Nothing remained but the valley, the mountains and the strange sifting ashes that fell to the earth like whispers of a tale.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Nothing except-

Nothing except me.

For a moment, time froze and I just sat there, crawled on the black rocks, ash hot against my skin, stomach churning with the sick stench, watching as the ashes, slow and beautiful, the valley of flames now nothing more then abandoned land of sweeping grey, mountains watching on all sides, all silent, all dead. Nothing moved, nothing breathed except for that far-away wind, that sea wind, so very far away, the air above cold and still, silent as death. Sulphur stung deep in my throat.

Ashes burned.

_Nothing._

_Nothing at-_

I saw it.

It stood there, at the opposite side of the valley, across the barren plain and falling hot ashes, across the distant, deathly quiet; it was nothing more then a blimp against the bleak skies, a dash of black against the sombre grey. It was as I had last seen it, crowning the very top of the highest mountain, stabbing up into the dull blank skies- only now, it was at an unbelievable distance, standing across the other side of the valley. Black stone gleamed pale silver in the grey of the day.

The Enfal Tree.

How on earth had it got there?

Or, more correctly perhaps, how on earth did _I _get here?

It was just standing there, on the very highest black crag of the ashen valley, a mountain that had once stood against my back, a mountain that now glared across at me, a mighty king frowning over his ruined prisoner. Black ashes rained down upon its sloping sides, far in the distance, the giant valley between empty and cold, a dreary sight, deathly still. Silence boomed throughout the dusty plains, rocks bathed in the tender soot, crags stabbing up into the silent skies, cruel masters of this dead world. Black branches gleamed like strokes of black paint against a grey canvas.

It was quiet.

So very quiet.

Time fell still as I stared up at it, at the blimp in the distance, at the object that was heart of it all; the Enfal Tree, the grave of Balder.

Balder, the god.

Balder, the myth.

Balder, the entire reason why I was here.

Balder, the one that had brought me here.

Balder, the one that had put me through hell.

Balder, the one who had gotten Circe killed.

Balder, the one who had me fighting a freaking dragon.

Balder, the one who had me stuck in this hellhole.

Balder, the one that gotten Will killed.

_Will._

I needed to get up there.

**88888888888888**

I could barely breathe.

Beneath the tight bodice, beneath the dirtied and bloodied cotton, my lungs were tight, choking, mouth gaping in the foul, sulphuric air, burning in the back of my throat. My windpipe was wasted, gone, rubbed red from the rushing poisonous air, my lungs spasming beneath my thumping heart; it was horrible, the vicious air strangling my throat between its bare, vile hands, rushing down my body, choking me alive. Coughs spat like automatic gunfire, burning in my throat as I stared down at the ground, hands pressed on knees, body shaking, trembling with each attack. My hair shook on either side of my face as I stared down at the dusty ground, ashes burning against the back of my neck; my muscles were burning, smouldering with exhaustion but my lungs wouldn't rest, spasming, dancing, tight and gasping in the foul of the air. Eyes and throat burned with fires.

_Great._

_Just great._

_Instead of getting killed by a dragon from hell, I'm going to die from sulphuric poisoning._

Down below me, flat in my view, the rocky black earth of the mountain's summit danced with the falling ashes, a picture of black dust and ashes; that, and the edges of my dirty hair was all I could see as I rested and coughed my life away, throat burning with the torturous fumes, body shaking to death. Metal boots gleamed against the black rock, dirty with mud, ash and crusted blood; it was all I could do to stand there, rest on my knees and stare at the ground, coughing, spitting, choking on the poisonous air, stabilising my body.

Tears filled my eyes.

_Great._

_Just great._

It wasn't as if the fumes, that foul sulphuric gas, had escalated upon my descent, the ashes' scent somehow stronger and tougher with each step up the mountain; no, it was the thinness of the air, the horrid cold altitude that made it so very hard to breathe. Ashes fell, stinging the air with the loathsome scent, its vile aroma, cropping each rock, staining every inch of the dark valley with its putrid stench; it was just the altitude that made it worse, the lack of air helpless in diluting the horrid stench. Sulphur reined at the crown of mountain king, choking my body, ripping it away.

It didn't help that I was thoroughly exhausted.

_Great._

_Just great._

It isn't everyday that one climbs a mountain, let alone after everything that had happened; as I stood there, staring at the ground, resting upon my knees, panting like a dog, coughing like sick invalid, my muscles burned, fiery, thighs aching with the tumultuous exertion. Knees wobbled beneath the weight, so very tired, calves strained and burned with the effort of climbing rock after rock. Hands ached with the all the climbing, sore and battered, shoulders rolling with sweating exhaustion. Blood rushed like a flaming river.

My head pounded.

_Great._

_Just great._

A part of me really just wanted to die.

It took a while, but finally, in the breaths of fuming sulphur, of falling sulphuric ashes, the coughing began to cease, releasing its viper clench around my lungs; the air was still so thin, the stench still so undiluted, so horrid, but my body began to stabilise, to adapt to the foul surroundings, blending into the poison. Something clicked, and my body began to relax, to modify, to adjust and to survive in those horrid climates. The coughs began to cease, my body calming down, my lungs slowly easing up as the burning in the back of my throat began to find its feet, to settle in, to become norm. My body slowly acclimatized, my hands wiping away the tears from my eyes-

And with a last exhausted cough, I pulled up from my rest, glancing around wearily.

Ashes burned.

_Great._

_Just fucking great._

Before me, resting down below, a dark mirage, was the valley of ashes, a dark court of a dark king resting by his majestic feet. Mountains, black towering crags, loomed on either side of the peak beneath me, a range of giant crags, black and dark and quiet. They stood shoulder to shoulder, all of them, a circular dome of rising summits cresting on either side of this giant, their points black knifes stabbing up into the grey skies, the black ashes; they were like armies, armies of mountains, standing armed on either side of their dark king, bowing in absolute loyalty, low before the king. They circled all the way around, black giants marching from both sides to meet at the very opposite of me, black ashes rolling down their jagged bodies, rocks tumbling like scattered bones. Ash crowned their proud crests like dark crowns.

Eyes glared silent, completely and utterly dead.

_Dead._

Beneath them, in the middle of their towering rampages, of this black army, was the valley, dusty and lonely, a grey mess in the heart of the black range. At this height, it was obvious that it was sunken low, a gathering pool, a crater of black dust and ashes milling over the lonely rocks. It was gigantic, humongous, a mammoth distance that even now, gasping at the top of the mountain, staring down with tired breaths and weary eyes, I could hardly believe that I had crossed it all; it was so long, so very long, stretching from mountain to mountain, an imperious distance. Ash fell like winter's snow, black and lonely, a quiet, dead valley.

Silence screamed its desperate cry.

_Dead._

From up here, at the top of the world, the valley of ashes looked like a gaping mouth of a monster, the black crags like ragged teeth, the sunken valley of ashes a dark, wanting hole, a mouth of some underground beast-

_Like Star Wars._

It was a flicker of a thought, a whisper in the wind, but the image was so sudden, so strange, so foreign and so forgotten in the presence of my mind; in a strange, dark flash, the scene snapped before me, the familiar movie scene, the _Millennium Falcon _speeding through the beast's gullet, racing to leave its foul stomach, the giant teeth creaking shut, closing forever….

How long had it been since I even mentioned Star Wars?

How long had it been?

It was so strange in my mind now, so foreign, so odd, so out of place and yet so familiar, ringing like a distant memory; it wasn't that long ago, surely. It must only be a month or so since home, maybe a little more, maybe a little less…

But how long had I been here?

How long have I been trapped?

What was the time?

What is time?

Is there even time anymore?

_Am I going mad?_

With a deep sigh of tainted air, I closed my eyes and pushed it all away; all the memories, all the questions, all the human panic that panged through me, that rang through me, my longings, my needs, my homesickness-

Because none of that was important anymore.

Home was not important anymore.

_Not anymore._

Without another thought, another word, I turned around, exhaling in the foul air with little difficulty, coughing slightly as I pivoted on my heels and opened my eyes-

And saw The Enfal Tree.

It was right there, in front of me, leaning near the edge of the summit, gleaming in the light of a far away sun; the grey of the day caught in it's limbs as it glared down at me, towering slightly, limbs reaching up, barren and cold. It's position had changed since I last saw it but it remained untouched, unmolested, beautiful and flawless against the naked day; in the pale of the skies, it gleamed a frail silver, the rock, the strange black rock of the tree glowing slightly like a fallen star. Smooth blackness reflected the pale light, like the waning of the moon, the silver-limned obsidian twisted up into those cold, empty branches. Limbs clawed up, cold and alone, stabbing up into the grey skies, the highest peak in all of the land, blunt claws, black claws, dark ashes cresting upon the smooth limbs. Roots jutted out of black dust, little hills of polished rock creeping beyond the tree's edge, ashes burning down on those sombre knobs. Rock gleamed, polished, beautiful.

Yes.

Beautiful.

It was dour too perhaps, that lonely black rock tree cropped at the edge of the summit, ashes falling upon it, weeping black sorrow; behind it, far in the distance beyond the trailing black ashes and grim black tree, the sea beamed, another place, another world, light, fire, waves crashing away, wind howling in laugh-

No.

No.

That was not important right now.

That world was not important.

Not anymore.

_Not anymore._

With a swallow of burning cough, I sighed, brushed the hot ashes off the top of my head and stepped forward, towards the black tree. It was a few steps away, a mere meter or two, but even as I walked, time froze, the quiet so unnerving, so chilling, halting time, halting space, the ashes burning with each step. Gravel crunched beneath my weary boots as I inched forward, eyes fixed on the smooth rock, on the tearing branches, on the knobby roots and the inky dark. Ashes fell like blackened snow.

A wind roared far away, distant, in another world.

My throat still burned.

_Not anymore._

Without another sound, I reached down slowly, fingers grappling onto the comforting warm hilt of my sword, holstered to my side; I had found it earlier, among the dust near the base of this mountain, before the torturous climb that had taken more time then I could even vaguely remember. All that mattered was that I had found and that it was there, at my hip, waiting for a command, protecting me always. It burned like the ashes, warm and strong, hot against the ache of my trembling legs; my fingers grabbed it and within seconds, it was in my hand again, sleeked out of the holster with a metallic slash, silver and gold beaming out into the world. Warmth rushed through my blood, through my body as I gripped the blade by its golden edge, silver glowing bright with its usual transcendent light, the ruby a fiery eye as the warmth, the blooming, wondrous warmth surged through me, comforting me, giving me all the strength-

Then, something strange happened.

For a moment, the blade hung at me side as I walked forward slowly, beaming gently, warm and beautiful in the falling hot ashes, like a star in a storm-

And then the glow brightened.

It was not like the glow that had blinded me, back during the battle with Rygor, back on that rock, back with all that pain.

No.

It was not that bright.

The blade must have just kicked up a notch or too, the shimmering golden pallor of the trembling blade pulsing like a heart, glowing onto the dusty rock edges and falling edges. It grew beyond the black tree and the dangerous edge of the terrific summit, pushing out black like the wiping out of sand, pumping, tremoring, hot and fiery in my hands as it pushed out softly, gently, beyond the boundaries of this ashes world-

And then, it pulled back, the light snapping back to the sword, the world returning to what it had been from the start, dark triumphing over the light once again-

But the tree was not the same.

_Not anymore._

There, in the falling ash and pale grey, in the screaming silence of the bleak world, light glowed upon the smooth black trunk of the tree; it was a golden light, a bright beautiful light, gleaming against the smooth black rock, like stars patterned against a midnight sky. It didn't wash the entire trunk, just a section of it, the middle of the black rock body pulsing with familiar light; it flickered a little, and then grey, heaving in and out, pulsing like a heart. It was a strange pattern, glowing like embers, throbbing against the black rock like a normal fire would with ordinary wood, pounding from within, gold as bright as a forgotten sun. It grew and it died, and my feet stopped and my breath froze as I stared at this strange event, at this pattern glowing and dimming in the black rock, like pulsating stars ranging across the night sky. Lines of gold flickered in black, an undecipherable pattern throbbing like a beating heart-

And I just stood there, completely stunned.

For a moment, this weird magic did just that, throbbing softly in the black rock, glowing against the ashes until at long last, it stopped, the dimming ceasing, the light beaming like stars. It no longer throbbed, perhaps only slightly, the weird pattern growing to a steady gold whipping through the smooth black rock, sashay of lines, gleaming radiant in the dark, dark rock-

Only it wasn't a pattern.

No.

Not a pattern.

Words.

As the light grew steady, still in the trailing hot ashes, the pattern, the words became apparent, lines growing fixed, gold forever still; it suddenly became obvious, just like that, words emerging out of this strange pattern, a group of sentences, a stanza, 8 lines stacked above each other, beaming bright. They were closely packed together, though elegantly carved, as if someone had taken a fountain pen and inked the face of The Enfal Tree with bright golden ink, telling a story.

A poem.

A message?

I didn't know.

I just stood there, staring at those golden words, stunned, shocked, gripping the warm sword, ashes burning hot-

And then, with a gulp of foul thin air, I walked forward, stepping towards the tree.

Towards the glowing words.

_What the hell…._

As I neared the tree, the strange black tree, the words only grew more obvious, bright against the black rock, lines thin and elegant, a work of a graceful, delicate hand. Ashes flickered off its gleaming edges, avoiding the light, the writing so very fragile, so very beautiful on the black rock tree. Lines pivoted like calligraphy, smooth and lithe.

And completely unreadable.

It was a bunch of words I had never seen before, 8 lines of unreadable jargon, a language completely foreign. The writing was delicate, beautiful, agile on the black rock but the words it spelled was complete nonsense, or at least a language I had never seen before. Alphabets went together when it should not, odd additions and twists of gold to those familiar letters. I had never seen such a manner of writing before:

_Fylliz fiǫrvi_

_feigra manna,_

_rýðr ragna siǫt_

_rauðom dreyra._

_Svǫrt verða sólskin_

_of sumor eptir,_

_veðr ǫll válynd_

_Vitoð ér enn, eða hvat_

It was strange, all very strange, a completely foreign language etched with golden light on a completely land. It shimmered and glowed among the black rock and falling ashes and as much as I tried read it, I couldn't; it was not a language I knew, that for certain. I knew Spanish, and the neighbours back home had thought me a generous amount of verbal Chinese-

But no.

It was not Spanish.

Far from it.

And it's was hell not Chinese as well.

No.

It was a language I didn't understand, a language I couldn't; I just stood there then, staring at the glowing words, repeating each sentences, trying to somehow understand those words. If Jared was here, he would have probably scolded me from trying to something impossible but I just stood there, rolling the words over my tongue, trying to guess a semblance of a meaning; I couldn't have come here, all the way up here, to learn absolutely nothing.

No.

I couldn't.

_I couldn't._

With soft murmurs, I began to try and read out those words, a hopeless attempt at trying to understand them, a finger trailing over the brilliant golden lines-

And then, with a shudder, the words began to move.

With a soft yelp, I pulled my fingers back and grabbed the sword with both hands, jumping back a step, heart racing with shock, the foul air choking back my throat as I stared, wide-eyed, stunned again; the words were moving, slowly at first, gliding about the smooth surface of black, waves upon a sea. It flew about, changing, morphing, a brilliant mix of strange gold letterings slowly leaping about the black rock. I couldn't tell what was happening, only that the letters were moving, changing, gliding up and down, speeding up as the strange language twirled and danced, pirouetting on the smooth black rock, changing into-

Into English.

All I could do was stare, clutching my blade as the strange stanza changed, the letters morphing, transforming, the odd language adjusting into English, a language I knew, a language I could read. Light gleamed as letters pranced about, black rock shivering with gold until at long last, in the dim of the hot ashes, the gold light grew steady again, the new letters settling down into the 8 lines again. Transformed words beamed gold against the face of The Enfal Tree as I read the words clearly for the first time, my mouth turning dry with each golden swish:

_It sates itself on the life-blood_

_of fated men,_

_paints red the powers' homes_

_with crimson gore._

_Black become the sun's beams_

_in the summers that follow,_

_weathers all treacherous._

_Do you still seek to know? And what?_

The air was so cold.

So very cold.

Ashes burned against the skin, hot and fiery, but the air hung cold, icy, clutching its iron gripes around me, digging its icy claws into my skin as I stared at those words.

Those cold words.

_Not anymore._

I re-read those words, over and over again, to make sure that I had gotten them right, to make sure I was not making a mistake.

_Not anymore._

What did it mean? What was it talking about?

Was it a poem?

A simple poem?

A message?

From whom?

Why?

A warning?

What on earth did it mean?

What would sate on the life-blood of fated men?

What would paint red the powers' home?

What powers?

Who were these powers?

Why would the sun become black?

What summers?

What weathers?

What did I still seek to know?

What?

What was all of this promising?

What was it saying?

What was this thing?

What was it telling?

What was it warning?

What did it mean?

_Will._

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at those golden words, hands gripping the warm sword, knuckles white, ashes burning; it was saying something, this sword, this tree, this god or whatever, something that didn't make any sense, something that bugged me, that chilled me.

Something that stabbed me, deep in my heart.

What did it mean?

_Will._

This was Balder's tomb.

This was this gravestone, the black Enfal Tree his tombstone; was this his message then? Was this his warning? Was he even alive, like Circe said from-

_Circe._

_Circe said._

_Circe._

_The ultimate end._

_The end of the wor-_

_No._

_No._

_Impossible._

_It couldn't be. _

_It just couldn't. _

_Circe was insane._

_She was insane._

_She didn't know what she was saying._

_She was talking gibberish._

_Madness._

_No._

_No way._

_No fucking way. _

_No._

_If Balder was down there, still alive…._

The words were still glowing, gold against gleaming black but it didn't matter anymore.

It never did.

There was only one thing that mattered.

There was only one thing that made me come here in the first place.

There was only one thing that made me fight that dragon.

There was only one thing that made me look at hell right in the face.

There was only one thing.

One thing.

Will.

There was only Will.

Balder was down there.

Balder was alive.

Balder was the only one who could bring Will back.

Balder was the only one who could make Will live again.

Balder was the only one.

The only one.

Balder.

There was only Balder.

There was only Balder and Will.

_That _was all that mattered.

_That _was all that there was.

No poem.

No message.

No stupid warning.

Just Balder.

And Will.

Just Balder and Will.

_Will._

With a deep thick breath of foul air and with a gasp of my heart, I swallowed back the flames and through the fiery black ashes, I reached forward and placed a palm on the golden letters, testing what would happen-

And then, just like that, my hand sank through the black rock, as if water, and I fell through the trunk of The Enfal Tree, tumbling away into the darkness.

**DONE!**

**The second part was more fun to write but yeah…this was a tiresome chapter to right. Anyhow, it's vital and I hope you guys enjoyed it. **

**One or two more chapters to go guys so please leave any comments on what you think about the story and how it can be improved. Thanks for all the reviews anyway. They are amazing! Furthermore, I would like to point out that you guys can still vote at my profile on who you think is the best actress to play Joey. I will be putting up a new poll soon, as soon as this fic is over, so let me know! I WANT TO KNOW!**

**Anyhow, thanks guys and see you soon!**

**XOXO**


	53. Balder

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. **

**ENJOY! **

**Chapter 50: Balder**

For a few whirling moments, all was dark, blinding, absolute black, curls rushing by as the I fell through the abyss, hurtling to my death-

And then, water engulfed me, grabbing me, ripping through me with icy claws, sharp to the point; it was as if the cold, the bitter horrid cold had completely engulfed me, consumed me, tearing me out of the darkness into its deep, silent belly, my body crashing down into its icy arms, helpless, pathetic. Silence pounded in my ears, the biting cold choking me with bloody claws, gnawing my skin, my bones, tearing me apart. Blackness pressed, all around, slashing against my frozen body; my hands were useless, flailing in the dark, cutting through the frigid waters as my feet struggled to kick up, metal weighing down, ankles dragged down my dead hands, by cold hands. Eyes stung with the bloody cold, burning with ice, my mouth screaming up a silent cry as I clawed up to the surface with every desperate strength-

And crashed through the surface, gasping, wheezing, lungs constricting with the cold, with the rushing air; hands scrabbled up into the darkness as I tasted air again, dank air, my breath so very loud in my ears, heart thundering like a drum, beating in relief. Legs kicked in the dark cold, fighting against the weight, muscles screaming as my body fought to stay above, to stay alive. Lungs heaved with agony, my heart thumping, jumping, adrenaline rushing down those frigid streams of blood; all I could hear was my breath, my harsh, fast breath, howling in my ear, gasping in my ear, water streaming all over my body, cold as hell, icy claws. My tongue had gone completely numb.

I could barely breathe.

_Where am I-_

Something clanged above.

Still paddling, hands clawing through icy waters, feet kicking sluggishly in the dark, lungs heaving, breath gasping, eyes stinging wide, I gazed upwards, water streaming down my hair in a icy mess; up above, high in the darkness, was a ceiling, a craven rocky ceiling, natural, jagged, light gleaming off the black stalactites hanging like daggers. Serrated patterns climbed down the uneven rocks, smoothing around in sloping walls to both my sides and behind, pillars of stalactites looping about, natural art. Rock gleamed a soft ember; directly above me, through the dark ceiling, blending in the rock but worse, a creeping, edging worse was a tunnel, a downward tunnel, black rock curving along a circular conduit. Stalactites hung around the large mouth of the empty space, like fangs, hovering with the faded light; it was a tunnel, an earthen tunnel, reaching up into a inky black, silence glaring down. There seemed to be no end, no light, nothing, nothing but a gaping mouth, a black belly of some depraved beast, fangs gleaming red. Abyss stretched with no end, dark and haunting, a night sky stretching to endless lengths, a night sky naked of stars and moon; it was tunnel surely, the same tunnel that I had obviously fallen from, a conduit that I had just moments ago hurtled through, helpless and screaming, crashing into icy wet. It all hadn't seem long, probably a few seconds but the tunnel seemed to stretch on and on, the blackness never ending, never faltering, silence stabbing upwards, the water sloshing around me, dripping with icy drops as I stared into the belly of this beast, breath ragged and torn, body frozen away-

Only it wasn't completely dark.

No.

Not completely.

There, up above, in that long, dark tunnel, a flash of silver zapped through the cold, like a bite of steel in my frozen bones, gleaming like a toothy grin, bright like a blaze-

And then, it crashed, smashing into the water, landing with a icy splash, silver gleaming bright with flames as the ripples trembled over the sloshing cold, my hands unconsciously grabbing for it, fingers turned to ice-

And there was my sword, my glowing sword, warm and bright in the grip of my icy fingers; my hand had grabbed it just as it made for the bottom of the black pond, fingers cutting through the icy wet to save it from sinking down. Metal weighed heavily as I held it, feet kicking below, the silver bright point of the gleaming metal sunk into the black waters, wrists straining. Gold gleamed like a trapped sunbeam, the fiery eye of the ruby saluting in greeting, lancing with flames. Etched words leaped from the bright silver blade, water rushing over its smooth face as I pulled it back to my body, fingers numb, nearly dead, grappling with the sword, moving languidly through the ice, my ragged breath slowly freezing in my chest; almost instantly, almost immediately, the heat of the blade began to soar through my blood, warmth surging through my body, kicking like waves. Silver and gold glowed softly, waning the dark with its gentle golden light, but it was the warmth that I most cared about, my body lapping up the cherished heat as it coursed through my body. It screamed a golden warmth, warming my fingers, my hands, my kicking legs, my wheezing chest, like hot chocolate in a blizzard. Fingers sprang to life.

_Thank God._

_Oh, thank God._

For a moment, I didn't move, paddling in cold silent dark pool, glowing sword clutched to my breast as warmth surged through my veins, breath sighing in content. Feet kicked beneath, thrusting in icy cold, the warmth of the blade running down my calves, springing goose bumps, charging them with strength as I mindlessly kicked in the deep, breath sighing, letting the heat, the golden warmth envelop me, take me away-

It was then I heard the music.

Up above, the tunnel gaped silent, an abyss of darkness and quiet, droplets of water dripping down the stalactites in eerie, lonely trickles, hollow in this weird dark place, this rocky cave, water sloshing near my ears as I paddled and kicked, staying afloat-

While music played a soft tune.

A beautiful tune.

_Where am I?_

With a swill of cold water and with the sword still hanging heavily in my warmed grip, I turned around, kicking mildly through the icy gloom, ears straining to hear the far away tune; all around me, the dark pool was silent, stretching out evenly on all sides, pure inky black. Water swelled and crinkled with my mere paddles, ripples cascading across the unholy darkness, little black waves crashing against ragged rock all around; to the sides, the walls sloped gently upward, towards the gaping tunnel, jagged rock climbing, stalactites hovering. Dark rock closed in behind me as well, the black water so very deep, so very dark, a wall of black closing behind like a gate, a barrier, preventing me from going anywhere, preventing me from escaping. Stalactites hung precariously, the ember light gleaming along their edges, icy water dripping like thick black blood; before me, the pool stretched about a meter or so, black depth stirring with the gentle ripples. Little waves, black swelling waves, crashed against torn rock, lapping like the tongues of ruined monsters on the black wall-

Only it wasn't a black wall.

No.

Not a black wall.

Before me, at the head of this black pool, was a ridge, a shallow cliff rising up from the black ripples, dusty and dark. It was a ledge, a shelf, a flat surface tearing out of the inky ice, ending with jagged cuts; above it was a landing, a flat road stretching out into the darkness. There was no wall, but an open space, a cavern opening up at the head of this pool. Waters licked at the feet of the jagged beach, light cropping the inky ripples; it was a cavern, indeed, a small cavern, a grotto, the walls of the dark pool sliding forward to fence this tiny little enclave. Harsh rock climbed over, doming over the silent pool to carve out a little passage before me, neat and simple, clearly man-made. Stalactites still hung, the dark ceilings of the enclave lower then the one above me, a smooth flat rock stretching about a meter or so, rocky daggers hanging like teeth. Water dripped, slow and thick.

Hollow.

Music laughed, a dim dream.

Beautiful music.

_Where am I?_

It was only about a meter wide, large enough for one person, a short passage carved into the side of this rocky cavern, this cave; up above, at the rear of this passage, gleaming down like watching eye, not too far from the mouth of the tunnel, was a torch of flames, a soft flickering fire burning hot up against the ceilings. It was a bright orange, a brilliant orange, torching against the rocky ceiling as it cracked and popped, wavering its ember shadows all about the dim cavern, snapping and licking, laughing manically. A black metal holster held it up, cradled it, bolted to the wall tight with dark screws as its metal torched with the leaping flames, an ancient torch flickering with life. Shadows leaped about, dancing in its radiant mirth; it barely lighted up the dripping pool and the black walls buts its cheery glow crested along the short passage before me, lighting it up with ember shadows. Gloom wavered upon that dusty trail, lighting the way towards-

Towards the door.

_Where am I?_

There, at the end of the short passage, shadows dancing at its feet, watching with silent dark eyes was a door, a dark door, an ancient door stretching from floor to ceiling. Icy water prickled the back of the neck; it was wooden, completely wooden, a large door stretching up and down, side to side, fitting into the rocky cave as if it had always been there, a part of the torn rocks. Wood curved at the top, sharpening at an angle, shadows leaping about its serrated boards; it was of a dark wood, mahogany, the harsh dark divided in the centre by a thick black line, a dual door. Metal nails, giant and black, about the size of my palm, gleamed dark ember, studded across the door in two horizontal lines, a pattern from ancient times. Black bolts bordered the wood on either side, clamped down against the dark rock, rusty and old, light laughing; instead of the doorknobs I was so used to, this door, this strange, ancient door had two large rings near its middle, metallic rings, heavy against the wood. They flashed dully in the gloom, the light of the nearby fire casting them in a shady ember, still and quiet, calling me forth. Rock dust coated the old wood.

Music sang, soft as a whisper.

"Fucking magic."

In the hollow of this small cave, this dark cave, the passage and door staring down at me, my voice was an echo, bouncing off the walls, loud and clear; but the music was soft, unbelievably soft, like a whisper of a dream, murmuring through the dark cave. Notes echoed across the rippling dark, shivering up the black walls, whispering through the gaping tunnel, swirling like a fog; it was a melody, a simple, single melody, a strange song barely discernible in the glooming quiet, muffled, stifled, muted as if the music was coming from the walls, the rock whispering a soft tune. It was too hushed to tell if it was a voice or an instrument, the tune too subdued to make out, too trapped, too lost, a dismembered voice floating among the ragged rocks and black waves, a strange melody I just couldn't quite place-

Except that it was beautiful.

Yes.

That much I could tell.

Definitely beautiful.

_Where am I?_

With a long deep sigh and with ears still pricked up against the music, I began to paddle forward, to shore, to the ledge that led to the passage, the door, hands gripping the warm sword to my heart; it was still a little cold but my feet kicked hard, surging through the icy still, my free hand clawing through the frigid black, warmth dancing in my veins. Cold water stung against my warmth skin as I swam sluggishly, keeping my head above the icy black, sword burning warm against my chest; the water tasted sweet, a clear, clean sweet rolling icy over my warmed tongue, burning against my lips, my eyes. Heat sunk thick, through my bones.

Heart hammered like a fiery drum.

Music sang sweet.

_Music in a dark, deserted cave._

_Where the hell am I?_

With a final push, I reached the ledge and with my grappling warmed free hand, I pulled myself up, fingers digging moist into dusty black, arms burning with effort. Muscles screamed red-hot as I heaved up onto the dusty shelf, panting warm, blobs of icy water dripping down onto the dark dust, thick and black. Water streamed down my skin as I climbed up, rivers of rushing cold, the burning sword thrown before me as I crawled, water gagging my throat. Drenched hair hung behind like thick rope, pulling back my scalp, my head pounding as the warmth surged in my skin, fingers digging into the coarse sands. Firelight leaped about the shadows, wet choking cold.

My sword glimmered like a golden star.

My neck hurt.

With clawed hands, I slowly pulled myself up, away from the water, away from the freezing pool, warmth coursing through my veins, muscles burning with each stretch; light flickered, roaring against the cavern roof as I stumbled up, knees aching, eyes staring ahead at the rocky walls, at the door. Shivers peaked here and there, the warmth chasing them away, my fingers sleeking over the glowing sword as I picked it up again, holding it in my right hand, water dripping down my skin. Heart boomed, pumping flames.

The sword trembled gold.

_Where am I?_

Before me, the passage dragged forth, the door sitting in the end, watching me with silent eyes, the dual metal rings gleaming a dark black, shadows dancing; stretching forth, the cave walls were rigid, dark, shouldering the door on both sides with uneven jolts, the floor the familiar black dustiness of the volcanic crag where it all had happened, where the lava had been, where I had fought that Rygor-

Wait.

_Wait._

Was that where I was?

Was I still on that black crag?

Was I somewhere underneath it now?

Was I now under the crag, in its deep black bowels?

Was this some cave in the black mountain, some underground cave, some lava cave even though I wasn't even sure there was ever any lava to begin with?

Was this a cave?

Was this an underground cave?

I had touched the Enfal Tree with its golden words…

And fell through the earth?

Is that what had happened?

Had I, by some sorcery, fallen through wood and rock and earth?

Was that tunnel that I fallen through a passage up to the Enfal Tree?

To freedom?

Was-

_No._

_Enough questions._

_Enough thinking._

_Now is not the time for thinking._

_Now is not the time for standing still._

_No._

No.

With a quaver of my head, I shook away the questions, the theories, and skulk on, lifting foot by foot, boots crunching wet on the black dust, fire cracking above, the hollow sound of water dripping off the rocky ceiling echoing through the black cave, beating to the sound of the strange music. Walls closed in on each sides, brushing against my shoulder as I inched forward, dust munching, water creeping along my skin, streaming down like rain; rough rock munched at my bare shoulders as I passed along, the narrow rock passage dancing with the shadows of the popping torch, a parade of black and ember. Before me, the door stood silent, watching, glaring, dark metal trembling with the soft glow of my sword as I crawled forward, breathing in the dank air, sucking it in, inhaling and exhaling, breathing for my life. Each step sounded like explosions blasting through the dusty earth.

Water dripped through the soulless dark.

Music hummed like a far-away breeze.

Fire laughed.

_Where the fuck am I?_

With one last creeping step, I finally reached the large door, staring up at its pointed arch, glaring back at the dull metal nails. The golden glow of my sword beamed against the dark ancient wood, elegant, nimble, bright, the ruby casting up a warning cry, leaping a bloody red; with a soft inhale of the cold, clammy air, I leaned forward and placed a wet ear against the harsh wood, cold slicing through the warmed skin, curls dripping wet. Sword leaned against the door as well, bright like a sun, arms tensed tight as they held the blade upright, muscles rolling wet; with a quick fervid nervous look down the short passage to the silent ink pool, I tilted my ear against the old, holding back my body, fearing any noise, senses alert.

Listened.

Hard.

_What-_

And there, beyond the hard wood, beyond the thick ancient door, music sang, sweet and pure, a strange instrument lilting a dainty tune, notes jumping with bliss, with joy. Melody sprang and danced, a light, sweet tune flowing through the cracks of wood, laughing through the door; it was a charming sound, a beautiful sound, a delightful whistling sound prancing about cherry cadences, in trilling rhythm. It sounded so light, so very light, like something out of the rushing rivers and green woods, dancing rays of sunlight twirling about in a simple song, flowers fresh, flowers wild, a wonderful melody so in contrast with the dark cave and its silent black pool. Notes leaped wild, and for a moment, for just a brief moment, I could smell those radiant flowers, those flowing streams of wild water, those laughing green tress standing tall and proud, those whispering falling leaves like trailing snow on a spring day, those playing, dashing animals leaping through the shrubbery, that sweet soaring sun beaming light into the world-

And then, just like that, it was gone, the darkness pulling back in, the cold wrapping again, the glorious forest, the sweet nature, tearing away to the cold, dark cave once more, water dripping an echo in the dark. Fires flickered behind, cracking against the leering stalactites; before me, the sword merged back into sight, glowing against the ancient wood, the tune, the strange beautiful tune still singing beyond the door, beyond the lonely cave. Warmth danced in my veins.

Icy water crawled down my back.

Eyes blinked, wet and slow.

I swallowed raw.

_Fuck this._

And with that, I opened the door.

Light burst forth, golden light, washing through the dark and blinding me momentarily, catching me off guard as I swung back the ancient wood, metal hinges moaning like weathered bones. Cool metal burned against my warmth skin as I squinted my eyes, my senses rapidly adjusting to the burst of light, fingers gripping the sword, arms tensed and ready; before me, the light slowly faded, my eyes pulling back, adjusting. Lashes blinked, wincing, the light washing down as I slowly adapted to the change in brightness, the scene opening up before my eyes like the turn of a page; before me, beyond the wincing brightness and creaking wooden door was a small round cave, a grotto bright with golden light. It was a perfect circle, a flawless circle, walls sleek and smooth, rock a brilliant, glowing gold. There were no jagged thorns, no broken ledges, smooth golden rock climbing up from sandy dust to even ceiling without a dent, a perfect carving of gleaming gold; it wasn't actual gold though, that I could see even through the beaming blaze, not the actual precious metal lining the walls. No, it was rock, bright, glowing, golden-hued rock, trembling with a strange rich light that seemed to infuse the entire cavern. Golden dust littered the smooth floor, the ceiling above glowing translucent, bright in the dark, dark world. Everything was radiant, bright, shining, a small cave of glowing gold walls, a haven in the gloomy dark; everything beamed, everything glimmered, a beautiful soft gold emanating throughout the entire smooth cavern, a dream of liquid gold. It was as if someone had captured the glow of the sun and trapped it in the room, light laughing, trilling a brilliant gold; the only thing that stuck out were the stalactites in the centre of the ceiling, hanging a deep, thick black, like roots of a black tree. Music lilted like a golden melody.

A hand rubbed at my eyes, creasing out the wincing brightness.

A gasp squeezed at my chest.

_Ok._

_Seriously._

_Where the hell am I?_

At the back of the cave, of the glowing golden cave, an underground stream ran, thick and pure, gurgling water across the back of the cavern, a straight line, wall to wall. It ran from left to right, emerging out of the bottom of the golden wall and coursing across the gold dust to a gaping hole in the opposite wall, black and deep, as wide as the width of a man. Water gurgled throughout the room, laughing like nymphs, its giggling hum matching with the sweet music, fitting with it perfectly. Froth danced gold in the light of the cave.

The air smelt of sweet water.

My heart danced a little jig.

_I give up._

In the middle of the rocky room, the golden cave, were two bars of standing stone, outcropping rocks, short ledges, sticking out of the bright floor, glowing a pale, weak gold. They had to be only about the height of my waist, each identical, carved smooth and perfect, man-made forgings out of gleaming golden rock; they were long, extremely long, stretching across the room on either side, mirroring each other, perfect copies. Rock had been carved on each side into smiles, two smiles, the both ends of a circle morphed into the golden rock, staring at each other. Between them was nothing more but the golden dust, the black stalactites directly above, the two odd-carved rocks coming together to form an incomplete circle; there were two gaps in this strange formation, complete opposite, on facing the door, one facing the stream. Indeed, it was a circle, a large, incomplete circle standing out in the middle of the room, twin benches encircling an empty golden space, music laughing through the dank air-

It was then that I saw him.

_Him._

There, lying flat on his back on the right golden arch, staring up at the gleaming ceiling was a man, a big man, a tanned man, lying back lazily, sprawled like a child. Cold bare feet pointed up to smooth bright rock, large swat toes, heels kicking up idly in time with the music, drumming against the golden rock with rhythm; black pants cut off the edges of his bronze ankles, dark, dusty black pants, dull and odd in the brightness of the room, flapping as his legs rocked sluggishly, giving into the trilling song. Up above, his chest was bare, completely bare, bronze skin creeping raw in the glow of the gold, muscles rolling with complete indolent; it was fine torso, I had to admit, a wide chest rippling with hard packs of muscles, the skin tinted gold in the bright of the room. He wasn't overly tanned, like those silly girls of silly magazines, but a luscious tan, an even tan, a natural hue like the sands of a desert. Large arms rolled with steaming biceps, chest swelling up and down with each crinkling breath, large elbows sticking at the sides, his stomach as flat as plains. Neck stretched lazily, muscles creaking languidly, music singing ever so sweet; there, at the top of his head, at the top of his body, was a mess of golden curls, messy curls, long strings of blonde hanging bright in the golden wash of the cavern. I couldn't see his face, so thick was his hair, a chaotic mess of long curls straying across the gleaming rock, fine as thread. It was nothing more then a muddle of tangled gold.

Of dancing gold.

It was a pretty head though, fine curls, lovely curls, strands of gleaming gold stretching down to the neck, tousling languidly with each drumming heel; sticking straight up from that mess of golden curls, stark in the golden light, was a flute, a wooden flute, poking up to the ceiling, lilting with the sweet music. Slim fingers ran over the polished wood, silver and gold filigree dancing bright about the slim instrument, perfect black holes gaping, whistling with tune; it was from this strange little flute that the beautiful music had been coming from, the sweet song singing out of its tiny holes, the light, skipping melody prancing out of the tiny wood. It was no bigger then 20 centimetres, but the music was pure, loud, bright and cheerful, so very nimble, so very gay in the small cavern, singing high above the rushing stream. Fingers rushed over the dark holes, fashioning sweet, jolly notes, the tune so succulent, so merry, a dance of elves in an underground cave. Golden etchings spun tales of trees and flowers on ancient wood.

Music laughed.

Heart screamed.

_Balder._

I don't know how I knew it, how I was so sure of it; I just was, my eyes straying across those kicking feet, those rolling muscles, those laughing golden curls and that sweet flute, that ancient flute, my mind registering, transmitting, staring without thought.

_Trying to understand._

_After all, who else could it be?_

_Who else?_

_Circe had said that Balder laid under the Enfal Tree, that his grave was beneath its rocky roots._

_Circe had said that Balder was alive._

_That he was here._

_That he could bring Will back._

_But could it be?_

_Really?_

_Was this Balder?_

_Was this really Balder?_

The sword burned in my hand.

"Balder?"

With sleek flick, the strange man, the hidden man, raised a single finger, bronze in the light, calling the universal signal for "one more minute please", and then dived down into the twirling music again, fingers rushing over the dark wood, singing a tune, so rich, so beautiful. Notes after notes charmed across the golden cavern, singing sweet, the tender voice of the flute ringing, echoing, laughing with the gurgling of the stream, dancing with the flicking drops. Behind me, the door slowly shifted close, creaking and moaning, scraping shut, pushing away the sounds of dripping water and popping flames, leaving me with the swirling music, the skipping tune. Harmony sang from the rushing streams, the melody bouncing, prancing and once again, one more time, I fell into that dream, that dream of whistling trees, of laughing blue rivers, of bees buzzing around tender white daisies, of deers prancing about the pure trees, of wind rushing by, pulling at curls, of nymphs dancing among the red roses, of bird singing into the wild bushes-

And then, just as before, the vision died, the dream died; only now, instead of dying, falling into the abyss, the dream ended in a laughing tune, the sweet song finally finished. Golden walls climbed back into the world as I blinked my eyes, waking from the dream, from the other world, mind shaking away the fog; before me, the cavern opened again, glowing bright, glowing gold, water sloshing a singing tune. Black stalactites hung wry, twisted like roots.

There was no more music.

With a loud exhale of the moist air, I looked up, towards the two arching benches of rock, towards the man with golden hair; with a knock of his heels, the man sprang up, jumping to his feet, back glistening with golden sweat as his hair churned bright fair, springing down to his shoulders, pale in the light. Curls skipped and laughed, brushing against the bare skin of his broad shoulders as he moved the flute down, away from his lips, the new silence choking like a mist. Gleaming muscles rolled as he slowly pivoted on his heels, flaxen curls dancing, the flute weighing lightly in his hand as he turned around and faced me, showing me his face for the very first time. Curls licked against sandy skin.

I gasped.

Before me, standing tall and proud, bare-chested and tanned, almost bare, was probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my entire life.

No.

Scratch that.

He was the most beautiful thing…._ever._

The most magnificent thing.

_Jesus…._

He was tall, quite tall, a large man standing inches over 6 feet, a gargantuan giant of blonde and bronze, a myth, a legend, a statue of old; there seemed to be nothing taller then him, nothing at all, his long legs covered by the dusty black pants, his bare chest long and wide, a chest of a giant. Shoulders pushed, broad and thick, arms hanging strong, his head the perfect size for his otherworldly body, his delicious body. There seemed to be no flaws at all, none at all, muscles perfect, skin perfect, a creature from another world, a creature from my dreams; up above, the long lanky curls danced bright gold, precious, fair curls licking against the harshness of his jaw, his dusky jaw. Flaxen curls gleamed like real gold, bobbing upon his broad shoulders, glimmering with the strange light against his thick neck, his body rippling with such muscles, with such strength, a perfect being, a perfect man-

It was his face, though, that nearly tripped me over.

_His gorgeous face. _

Among the curls, among the fair curls shivering like golden threads, beautiful fine threads teeming on large shoulders, was his face, his angular face, his perfect face, his skin a dusky bronze, like that of summer beaches. Jaw stuck round and tough, dark like sand, strong and muscular; stubbles, dark, dotting stubbles crept up his fine jaw, rough and uneven, darkening his countenance, wearying him, an unshaven chin kissing against golden curls. Up above, his nose was slender, sharp but slender, his cheekbones rising on either side like dunes of a desert, large and strong in the dusk of his face. Skin spread wide, even, flawless, not a blemish in sight, not a wrinkle in wear. Dark lashes, dark black, kissed against those dune-like cheeks, those screaming cheekbones, dancing upon their edges, tip-toeing a jig. Eyelids barely moved, forehead broad and strong, forefront of a great mind; below, among those flaxen curls, those twisting golds, were a pair of piercing, bright blue eyes, shocking, brilliant, beautiful sapphires set into his already-beautiful face. They were not stormy, like Jared's, or pale like Lestrade; no, they were alive, kicking alive, racing with laughter and humour and just about every good fun in the world. Joy sprang in those cerulean orbs, leaping, dancing joy, a pair of wondrous pools like the leaping waves of an ocean, gold licking like sun cresting on summer froth's. Cheer ran free, unleashed, uncontrolled, the two glistening orbs of azure staring at me without a care, so untroubled, so happy, so alive and so very free. Lips pulled taut, thick and full.

I nearly gagged.

_God…_

For a fraction of a moment, I just stood there, staring at this man, this beautiful man, this unbelievable man, his eyes stabbing bright blue, jewels gleaming bright in the golden light, his gorgeous chest heaving up and down, wooden flute clutched in his hand, my breath frozen as the sword trembled in my hand, burning against my skin-

"Did you bring any bananas?"

There was nothing melodic about his voice.

Nothing sweet.

Nothing pure.

Unlike the music he had created, the sweet playing of the flute, the lilting melody his fingers, his breath had spun out of the air, his voice was…was….

_Ordinary._

_Completely ordinary._

It was a voice of a normal man, an ordinary man, no skipping undertones, no weird visions, no odd magical touch separating him from the ordinary human being; it wasn't like Circe's spring-like voice, nothing like her dancing voice, just a plain, common voice of a man, echoing throughout the grotto, smirking over the crashing waters. It wasn't too low, nor was it too high, resounding firmly to the golden ceiling, lines tight, a strange, impending seriousness; there was a slight accent, though, an odd tone, his voice sliding between a light English accent and a Frenchman's lilt. I couldn't place it, couldn't pinpoint it, his tone, his accent something I never heard before, something I wasn't a touch familiar with. His 'r' rolled a little.

My brain churned.

_Could this be?_

_Could it-_

_No._

_No, he can't._

_He's too ordinary._

_I mean, he _sounds _too ordinary._

_He looks amazing, but his voice…_

_Circe's voice was strange, and she was a demi-god._

_He's wasn't._

_He wasn't._

_He can't be._

_He can't._

_Can he?_

_Is he-_

"Did you hear me?" His voice, his ordinary, firm voice brought me back to reality, snapping me out of my reverie as I gripped the sword tightly again, blade hovering warm in front of me, stream frothing, whispering in the back; before me, the stranger stood, tall and proud, a thin fair eyebrow arching high up into the messy golden curls, his lips parted slightly, gold light dancing about the sandy skin. Blue eyes stared unnervingly, never blinking, bright pools of deep azure so alive, so bright, vibrant and vivacious, laughing like a river. Sweat glimmered all about his golden bare chest.

I blinked my eyes stupidly, heart racing.

My voice was a squeak.

"What?"

"Bananas," he repeated, accent thick and strong, nodding his head slightly as he stared over at me, blue fire dancing in his bright eyes, "You know, yellow fruits, about wee long? Tasteless skin, but the meat's all good, sweet and thick; the typical monkey's favourite too, I reckon-"

"Wait, I don't under-"

"You're telling me you didn't bring any bananas?"

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to smile, to laugh, to shake it all away as nothing more then a joke; but the tall man just stood there, staring down at me, blue eyes wide and excited with question, nodding in anticipation. Golden curls frayed, his chin strong, his handsome face pushed forward, waiting keenly for an answer, as if the question itself had been so important, so utterly serious in a time like this. Awe slowly faded away from my mind, wiped clean, incredulity creeping over as I stared up at this strange man, at this tall beautiful man.

He was still waiting for an answer.

I cleared my throat.

"Wait," I said, more clearly now, my voice filling out the golden grotto as I stared up at the golden stranger, at his dusky face and eager eyes, lips parted, willing, "You're serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be serious? Why wouldn't anyone be serious about bananas?"

"B-Bananas?"

"Yes, bananas. What am I, talking gibberish?"

He waved his hands as he spoke, his large hands, slims fingers flapping through the golden air as he talked, his blue eyes wide with impatience, an excitable energy seeming to bounce about with his every word, his ordinary accented voice speaking rapidly, shooting like automatic fire. My first impression of him, of golden magnificence, of quiet beauty, quickly brushed away, falling like autumn leaves, his long golden curls and bronze skin doing nothing to smite the growing energy in his voice, in his dancing eyes. Each word passed, flashing by, buzzing with life.

Fingers clutched to wooden flute.

Fingers clutched to glowing sword.

Eyebrows arched deep.

_What on earth?_

"Why would I have bananas?"

"Because I'm _hungry_? "He exclaimed out loud, voice rich, voice strong, echoing about the small golden cave, eyebrows leaping up to his golden hairline, nodding his head at me as he stared over with an incredulous look, as if he couldn't believe what I had just said. Flaxen curls licked and kissed as he nodded like a child, blue eyes wide, leaping flames, his broad chest rolling with muscles as he shrugged, a somewhat childish demeanour for his glorious being. His 'r' rolled again, strong and firm.

He sounded like a child.

_A pathetic child._

Fingers slipped against glowing gold.

Silver beamed like a star.

Bewilderment burned.

_What the fuck?_

My voice was still a question.

"H-Hungry?"

"Yes, hungry," he sounded impatient now, wide, disbelieving blues squinting down to pure impatience, frothing with energy, a single hand reaching up to swipe at his fair locks, slim bronze fingers running through golden plains, his lips downturned as he glared over at me, eyebrows soaring, "Bloody hungry, actually, seeing as I haven't eaten in _2000 years_- but hey, what does that matter to a simple immortal, eh? 2000 years is nothing to me, right? Sand and water can feed me, no need for sweet, sweet bananas-"

"I-"

"-or anything, now that we talking about it; yes, you probably left the home thinkin' to yourself, 'Eh, don't need to get good ol' Balder anything, seeing as he is a god, and gods never need anything'. Ah, yes, no need for food, no need for water, just leave me, buried alive, starving to death-"

"Wait, I-"

"- but then again, gods can't really die, so I suppose you're save there too. After all, what is a banana to me, right? What is a sweet, juicy banana to a god trapped under a giant mountain and a bloody dragon for 4 millenniums with no entertainment, no company and no food at all right? I mean, what is a banana to a mere lowly god-"

"OH, WOULD YOU _SHUT UP_?"

It was an echo, a loud, resounding echo, my voice bouncing off the golden walls, leaping up to the fair ceiling, screaming over the rushing stream and cutting off the endless chatter of the tall man, frustration and annoyance biting into every word, surging with fuming exasperation. Voice tore, rapid and wild, heart racing with infuriation as my words echoed about the golden enclave, teeth gritting together unconsciously. Before me, the tall blonde man's lips hung open, stunned in silence-

And then, with the flash of wild blue eyes, he smirked, crooking the corner of his lips and lighting up his dusky face with a mischievous glow. Blue eyes sprang to life, flaring like an azure flame, the keening eagerness mixed about with the churning of something impish, something playful, casting his fine features in a roguish tint. Indeed, there was always something roguish about him, something childish, something naughty, something wild and loose prancing about his sapphire eyes, eyes so young, so feral; his crook just made him devilishly handsome, wrinkles creasing around those fine lips, a sliver of white teeth gleaming porcelain beneath the darkened skin. Laugh lines creased along sandy dunes.

He obviously found something funny.

And it infuriated me.

"Nasty temper we have, now don't we?"

"I'm sorry," I spat, with more vehemence than I anticipated, frustration roiling beneath my skin as I stared up at that smirk, that arrogant, handsome smirk, fingers tight around the golden hilt, "Did I offend you?"

"A little, yeah," the man nodded, eyes wide, smirk dropping as he adopted a more casual grin, golden curls bobbing, his feet slowly bobbing as the sweat glistened gold on his firm chest, his arms rocking back and forth in a childish swing, flute dancing silver and brown, "You see, bananas-"

"Right, bananas. I forgot. Sorry, really sorry; you see, amidst all the sirens and pirates and daemons and the ghost ships and the witches and the dragons, it must have _slipped_ my mind."

His smile just widened.

Sword burned.

"You're a sarcastic one, now aren't you?"

I wanted to punch him.

"Are you Balder or not?"

"Well that depends, now doesn't it?"

His smirk was infuriating, an impish sliver on his bronze face.

Golden locks danced, giggling with amusement.

Blue eyes laughed.

I tried not to sigh.

"Depends on what?"

"On where you are from, really," his 'r' rolled again as just smirked at me, his grin fitting his large face, chest glistening, curls dancing, arms swinging back and forth as he stared over me with obvious amusement, as if he was a child that had just stumbled upon a new toy, his heels drumming together as if he were Dorothy, wishing away on red shoes, "I have many names, you see, several in fact; some used to call me Apollo, others Horus. Balder is not the most common, but it is the definitely the one I prefer. Jesus too, if you will, though I think I was more of an inspiration than the actual thing-"

"Jesus-"

"- though, of course, there was _probably _a guy called Jesus, seeing as Jesus was way after my time; though you _have _to admit, the similarities between that story and my story is somewhat familiar, from what I have heard through the rock anyway-"

"Wait, heard through the rock-"

"Whispers, darling, whispers; I'm a god, remember? I'm hypersensitive. I may have spent the last 4000 years trapped under this rock, blind to the world, but that does not mean I can listen in now and again; and might I say what a _mess _you mortals have made of things! Seriously! What on earth were you people thinking with that Crusade thing? 200 years of war? Now, who in the blasted world would want that, excluding Vulcan of course, but that's another thing all together-"

"Do you ever shut up?" I asked, sighing in exasperation, staring at the man as he fidgeted like a child, the flute swinging in his tight grip, his dusky grin even more gold in the strange light, heels drumming, lips smirking as he had chattered on and on, my last sentence dropping the axe. Black stalactites hung, deep and long, awkward elements just above his head, his plain but firm accented voice echoing across the grotto. Water rushed behind, frothing, gurgling, golden curls shivering against sandy plains.

Sword beamed bright.

I sighed.

"No, not particularly."

"Of course not."

"Silence is the gift for the old."

"You're over 4000 years old."

"Mere numbers."

For a moment, I just stared at him, silent, numb, staring up at his cheeky blue eyes, at his mischievous grin, at his broad gleaming shoulders and swinging arms, obviously enjoying every single moment, blue eyes soaring bright; silence pounded, pulsing, beating like a drum, screaming up to the golden ceiling. Water surged, echoing with gurgles.

Golden curls mocked with laughter.

I couldn't speak.

_Fuck this._

I threw the sword to the ground.

"I give up."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," I nodded, slowly, staring up at him, at his beaming eyes, at his smirking lips, wanting to punch him, wanting to punch something, dust sifting at my feet around the fallen sword, metal glowing the same gold as the scattered sands, "I mean it. I give up."

"Now, why would you be doing that-"

"Because I'm _tired. _I'm _exhausted. _You have no idea what I have been through this past 2 months-"

"On the contrary," he smiled, easily so, eyes laughing, humour snickering, watching me like a science experiment, heels teetering about in fidgety excitement, face washing with pure energy, as it had always been, "I know exactly what you've been through. Pirates. My sword. More pirates. Metus. Even more pirates. Rygor-"

"You missed out the sirens."

"Sirens?" his smirk dropped away to a pondering pout, lips trapping together in a playful sort of bewildered sulk, as if he was genuinely thinking, as if he actually cared, dancing blue eyes clearing slightly as he pondered away into the distance, staring beyond me, golden curls shivering as he cocked his head to the side, "What on earth were you doing with sirens?"

I didn't answer.

For a moment, for the tiniest of moments, there was no sound, no voices, no movement whatsoever except for the gurgling stream far away, far behind.

No footsteps.

No words.

Nothing .

Nada.

_Silence._

I couldn't recognise my voice.

"Tell me, once and for all. Are you Balder?"

It didn't take more then a second for the man to answer, nodding quickly, smiling again.

"Aye."

I could barely breathe.

"Did you bring me here?"

One nod.

"Yes."

"Am I your heir?"

Another nod.

"Yes."

"Is this your sword?"

A flashing grin.

"Aye."

"Was it your voice, advising me all the way?"

A playful wink.

"Yes, me dame."

"Did you cause all of this?"

Cheerful eyes.

"Oh, definitely."

I couldn't breathe.

Not a breath.

Before me, Balder just stared, smiling, beaming, laugh lines creasing as his blue eyes danced a merry jig, black stubbles wrying with pale wrinkles, fair locks dancing across dusky skin. Arms swung merrily, feet drumming, his wide chest glimmering with the gloss of the golden sweat, curls kissing against the dark shoulders, pants hanging low. Bare toes kicked against golden dust, flute dark in his slim fingers. Lips crooked away in that ever-annoying smile, washing over his face.

His face.

Balder's face.

Balder.

Balder.

My heart screamed.

_Balder._

"Tell me this then," all of a sudden, my teeth were gritting together, harsh and fierce, my eyes narrowing unconsciously as I stared up at him, at the blonde man, at Balder, at his beaming eyes and laughing lips, anger seething in my throat, blood roiling, my voice caught hot and white as I whispered out into the golden silence, "why?"

"What?"

"Why, _Balder_?" my jaws hurt so bad, so very bad, my tongue sore and red, hands knotting into clenched fist at either sides, nails biting into skin, my breath turning hot, turning ragged, my head beginning to pound, anger beginning to consume me, sudden white rage staring up into those merry blue eyes, "Why _me_? Why did you have to pick _me_? Why did _I _have to be your heir? Why? _Why_?"

"Well-"

"Was it something I did?" there were tears in my eyes, tears I didn't know I had left, hot, rolling tears, springing up to my eyes, choking me, my throat turning tight, turning hot, fingers squeezing close, feet heavy, feet hot, skin crawling as frustration, as rage crept over me, stabbing into me, engulfing me, taking me in, "Was it? Did I do something wrong, back in my life, in my time? Is this a punishment-"

"Many would see this as a reward-"

"I lost Will-"

"Who's Will-"

"You ruined everything."

He didn't reply.

He didn't say a word.

_Silence._

In the glow of the golden grotto, in the rushing gurgle of the stream, the smile fell from Balder's lips, lips dropping down into a firm stern, all joy, all merriment casting away, washing away like sands on a beach; blue eyes froze, silent, the wildness, the freedom freezing in those cold icicles, peering quietly, peering silently beyond the fraying golden curls. Laugh lines vanished back into sandy skin, and then, just like that, the tall man fell silent, lips pulled tight, blue eyes piercing, his chest seeming to stop heaving, his lungs seeming to cease. Jaw hardened, thick and dark, stubbles pinpricking black, a knot blooming at the corner of his chin, hard and raw. Arms stopped swinging, heels ceasing their endless drumming. Shoulder pulled tight, silent, tensed as muscles rolled quietly, gold sweat gleaming along the still arms. Eyes stared coldly, grimly.

Silently.

_Silence._

A hand wiped away at those stray tears.

_Tears._

_Seriously, Joey?_

_You're crying?_

_Now?_

_Here?_

_In front of him?_

_What the hell's wrong with you?_

_Couldn't you have done this outside?_

_Great._

_Now, he probably thinks I'm some sort of pathetic child-_

"You can leave if you want to."

My breath caught cold.

"W-What?"

"You can leave," his voice had lost its odd energy, his accented tone speaking plainly, calmly, silently, devoid of emotions as he stared quietly over at me, features detached, eyes cold, lines pulled tight, the joy, the laughter washed from his face as if it were never there in the first place, hollow like a shell, as if my very words had somehow erased all traces of life in him, in this man, in this god, "You are more then free to walk out of here."

"H-How-"

"Killing Rygor destroyed the curse. You're free to leave. I'm free to leave. Go away, if that is what you want."

For a moment, I just gaped at him, at his sudden calm face, at his cryptic face, holding my breath as I stared up into those cold, cold eyes, searching for a joke, searching for some sort of laughter-

There was none.

_Crap._

"You're serious?"

My eyes were wide.

A simple nod.

"Oh, absolutely," golden curls bounced, blue eyes silent, voice pulled down quiet and numb, a machine staring silently right at me, "If you want it so, leave. You've done your part."

"My part? H-How the hell-"

"See that brook?" with a flick of fair curls, Balder nodded back towards the rushing stream, blue eyes staring deep, staring silently, his face completely devoid of any emotion, azure stabbing deep, "Follow it. Swim through it. Dip down that small tunnel over there, hold your breath a wee bit, and you will come up to another pool. Walk on from there, about 5 minutes or so, and you will emerge near the Enfal. From there, you can return to whatever form of transport you came in, and return to whatever life you have left. I won't disturb you again."

I could only gape.

For a moment, I just stared up at this suddenly quiet man, at his silent eyes, mind whirling, twirling, churning with thoughts.

My lips were so dry.

_So dry._

"I can't do that," it was just a whisper, a tiny little whisper, but Balder heard it all right, raising a little, studying me with those cold eyes, those passive eyes, knot hard at his jaw, teeth clenched shut. Golden locks drew silent by his shoulders.

Tears burned at the back of my eyes.

The air was so damp.

Heart screamed.

_This is insane._

_This is really insane._

_I should just go._

_I should just leg out of here, just like he said._

_Why should I stay here, after all?_

_Why?_

_This was the man who ruined everything._

_This was the man who was to blame for everything._

_The reason._

_The god._

_Balder._

_This was all his fault._

_All his fault._

_Why should I stay here one more second?_

_Why?_

His voice was so quiet.

"And why not?"

I could barely speak-

_Wait._

In the glow of the gold, in the wake of my raw tears and the brief, pounding silence, I suddenly saw that Balder wasn't as young as I thought he was, as his body foretold; in the gloom of the silence, in the hardness of his face, it suddenly became obvious that he looked then 20 years.

Hell, older then 30 years.

His body was fit and strong, gold skin glistening, shoulders broad, chest wide with stretching muscles; but with his lips pulled tight and his eyes suddenly cold, his face aged, features of a man in his mid-thirties, wrinkle-free but hard, weary, harsh after having seen so many years. Body rippled, young and eager, but his silent face told only of an older man, of a full-grown adult. Gone was that youth in his eyes, that stirring adolescence, that burning freedom and eagerness of a young man; instead, he now seemed older, wiser, a man who has seen several, a man weary of his journeys. Age shone deep in that cold ice.

It was as if a mask had been casted away from his face.

_His true face?_

_I don't know._

_He's a god, after all._

_Are they all like that?_

_Do they appear younger then they seem, and than suddenly fall back into their old faces, into the face that they had picked?_

_Was that what it was?_

_After all, Balder was only then 4000 years old._

_Hell, he was older then the earth itself._

_Could gods change their age as much as they wanted?_

_Or did they look a specific only, for all eternity?_

_Had the youth, the laughter in his blue eyes fooled me?_

_What the hell is going on?_

_What the fuck-_

"How old are you?"

It was a sudden question perhaps, a misplaced question, for Balder raised one single eyebrow, obviously waiting for me to answer _his _question, the first sign of emotions I had seen on his face in awhile; now that I had finally seen it, he remained the same, the very same, a full grown man somewhere in his mid-thirties, devilishly handsome but older, like Sparrow. Wry lips pulled tight, uncomprehending.

Silent.

My voice echoed through the golden grotto.

He's was softer.

"I was born before the earth was made," he said simply enough, staring quietly, eyes piercing, eyes hollow, the age shining through the sandy skin.

My throat felt hoarse.

_Where on earth are you going with this, Joey?_

"And how many years ago was that?"

A single word.

"Billions."

_Billions._

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, at this man, this god, this _ancient _god, a creature that could change his age, a creature that created such beautiful music-

Divine.

A divine creature.

A god.

A god of light.

A god of truth.

A god.

A god.

Balder.

_Balder._

_I was standing in front of Balder._

_I was standing in front of a god._

The whole entire time, from the very being, I had confused and mad, furious, frustrated, wanting to punch him, to kill him for everything he had caused-

And not once had I stopped think about who he really was.

About what he really was.

Where he came from.

How he came about.

Why he was here.

_What he can do._

For that moment, for that briefest of moment, I could only stare, finally registering what was before me, _who _was before me-

His voice rang true, silent and deep.

"You didn't answer my question."

I blinked my eyes to refocus.

"W-What?"

No emotion.

"You can leave. Go ahead."

I cleared my throat, brushing aside the fog of questions, the mist of panging thought, straightening my back as I ignored the sinking in of fact. Head shook away the awing admitting.

_No._

_Now is not the time._

"I can't," I spoke louder, staring up into those eyes, those cold, silent eyes, watching for a reaction, praying for an emotion, my breath caught in my throat, frozen in my lungs, "I can't leave."

Blue eyes stared, silent and dead.

His voice was like a still pond.

"And why not?"

My breath was so cold.

"Because I need your help."

And there, in the soft golden light, Balder lifted the side of his lips again, crooking slightly, smirking slightly, a raw, unprecedented smile creeping across his face once again, lighting it up, blazing it up; eyes, crystal blue eyes soared brilliant, like a jet streaming off its wheels, ice melting away into that familiar leaping joy, that cheeky playfulness, that comforting mischievousness swimming in those sea-depths. Muscles eased back, jaw loosening, laugh lines cresting through the sandy dunes as the laughter, the eagerness, the mere childishness returned to his face, torching bright and keen.

Youth spilled back, like waves over sand.

I swallowed hard.

_Wait. _

_Is this a good thing?_

"Help?"

"Yes," I nodded, clearing my throat, controlling myself, fist clenched tight as I stared up at him, trying not to breathe too loudly, "I need your help. It's why I came out here in the first place. Why I killed that Rygor. I wanted to meet you, so that you can help me."

"And what exactly would help be wanting?"

I gulped.

"Will."

A knowing smile.

"Who?"

My heart clenched.

"Oh, I think you know," I nodded simply, biting my tongue as he watched keenly, happily, as if something I said, something about me just amused me to hell, all traces of passiveness, of stern quiet replaced by that usual child-like playfulness, eyes dancing like nymphs in the woods, merry and alive, "You know exactly who I am talking about."

"I don't-"

"If you could whisper me advice inside my head, saving my neck over and over again, surely you know who I am talking about."

"Well, that depends, really," he nodded excitedly, throwing on a dramatic sort of tease, hairs prickling at the back of my neck, "I can only see what my sword sees, and from a certain distance as well-"

"You know."

A beaming smile.

My thumping heart.

Silence.

And then, a single word through gleaming teeth.

"Aye."

My throat choked.

"Then you can bring him back."

For a brief moment, Balder just cocked his head to the right and gave me a mock troubled look, a small smile twitching on his lips as he acted out a little confused demeanour, dramatic, arrogant. Golden curls flocked, straying like hay, eyes laughing, guffawing with ridiculous humour. Lips pouted.

Blood surged.

"Did you hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you all right," he nodded, rolling his 'r', scrunching up his nose and making him look younger, that older face still etched in my mind, his features still somewhat grown in and hard, weary with age, the playful manner of a child making him look younger but no longer hiding his true face, "Just puzzles me how you mortals think that everything is so _easy_-"

"I don't have time for your nonsense-"

"Did you even read it?"

_What?_

"What?"

A pretty smile.

"The words," he said simply enough, staring at me with humour, dropping the confused act for his more natural stance of pure enjoyment, the flute twirling in his fingers, "The poem, the _edda _on the tree."

Now it was my turn to become confused, only I wasn't acting.

"_Edda_?"

"Golden words, me love," he smiled, grinning gold, my eyebrows scrunching together, trying to understand, "The words written on the face of the Enfal Tree, words that you touched, words that brought you here-"

"You mean the gold-"

"Yes, yes- did you understand it?"

I couldn't understand the train of conversation but I just nodded slowly, staring up at that cheeky smile, wondering what on earth he was getting at. Curls bobbed softly, the medicine man's eye kissing against my bare shoulders, comforting me. Fist shuddered tight, dripping a little damp.

_What the hell is he talking about?_

Balder just smiled, nodding his head, thinking out loud, handsome face beaming like the sun, his expression growing more and more dramatic with each passing second.

A part of me still wanted to punch him.

"Well, of course you did," he simply said, nodding, eyes bright, keen, golden curls bouncing, face alive like a child, clearly interested, "My sister's magic, though old as the sky, probably converted the _edda_ for you, to whatever language you prefer- speaking of which, what language _are _we talking in?"

_Huh?_

"Um…English?"

"Ah. Figures."

"I'm sorry, but where are you going with this? I need your help-"

"And obviously you didn't pay any attention to what was written at all, did you?"

I could only gape.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Obviously."

"Dude, I have no idea what you are ranting about but I lost my friend, killed a dragon, came down here all so that you can-"

" ' It sates itself on the life-blood of fated man,' " his voice suddenly sprang up into the air, thick and joyful, Balder cocking up his head and singing up to the golden ceiling, yelling a dramatic recitation, suddenly theatrical, a thespian strolling between the two arches, kicking up dust as if he was truly an actor on stage, so over-the-top, " ' paints red the power's homes with crimson gore!' "

_What on earth-_

His voice resounded, dramatic as hell.

" ' Black becomes the sunbeams, in the summers that follows! Weather-' "

"What are you-"

" '- Weathers all treacherous! Do you still seek to know? And-"

"I can read, alright?" Exasperation edged in my voice as I finally cut him off, shouting over his dramatic tone, ending his recitation and lowering his gaze back to me, an unnerving cheeky grin plastered across his handsome lips, blue eyes laughing with humour, "I read what it said-"

"But obviously, you have no idea what it was talking about!" he smiled happily, obviously pleased with his little performance, grinning like an idiot, golden curls giggling in pure bliss; if it had been any other time, in any other situation, I would have probably have laughed along at his silly act, clutching my tummy with uncontrollable chuckles-

But not now.

Not today.

Not ever.

_Not until I get Will back._

I cleared my throat.

"Does it even matter-"

"Of course, it matters!" golden curls flicked high as he beamed that cheery smile, that high smile, blue eyes laughing as my heart sank deep, fist tight, throat tight, "What do you think? We immortals just write _Eddas _for the fun of it?"

"That is not important right now-"

"What on earth do you think that those words meant? What on earth do you think it meant with 'paints the power's homes crimson go-' "

"I DON'T CARE-"

"The end of the world."

The world froze.

Completely froze.

For a moment, I just stood there, mouth gaping, staring up at those golden curls, those laughing blue eyes, mind freezing on the spot, halting still, trapped in a locked room, suspended high, numb and stunned, dull and dead. Fingers froze at my sides.

I couldn't breathe.

The end of the world.

The end of the world.

_The end of the world._

No.

No.

_No._

_It can't be._

_Circe had said it._

_But she was mad._

_Mental._

_It can't be. _

_It can't be._

_It isn't._

_It can't._

_It won't._

_No._

_No._

No.

"Start talking."

**WOHOO!**

**Don't worry, a lot will be explained in the next chapter. Thanks for all your reviews and please keep them coming; I adore them very much and they really, really help! Tell me what you think, and I will try to get the next one to you as soon as possible. Thanks, and see you soon!**

**XOXO**


	54. The Complicated Truth

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Chapter 51: The Complicated Truth**

We sat opposite each other.

Beneath me, the right arch curved along my thighs, smooth and gold, a pale fair, sandy dust licking at its arched body, golden grains scattered atop its length. Metal boots grinded down against the fair sands, blobs of water dotting the pale a darker shade. Hair dripped cold, wet and naked.

I swallowed thick.

In front of me, upon the left arch facing the door, Balder had slouched back upon the stone once more, body stretched out against the fair stone, legs drumming, muscular hands loosened together, atop his broad bare chest. Golden curls laid flopping around his head, flat against the rock, a trailing pale halo crowning his angular face, his bronze face, his handsome face. Sweat glistened, gold and pure on his naked limbs.

His flute twirled in those slim fingers.

_Silence._

"Well?"

"Well what?" he was staring at the ceiling, thinking, a sharp profile in the golden light, nose slim and long, curls kissing soft and tender, his voice wistful, playful. At this angle, I could no longer see his eyes, his bewitching eyes, but his lips no longer shook in that irksome smile; instead, they were flat, drawn still, eyes staring quietly up to the black stalactites, thinking, pondering. Ribbed muscles rolled with each quiet breath.

Water laughed, rich and thick.

I sighed.

"Well, tell me. Tell me about everything."

A shake of curls, and then a flippant smile at me, at the twist of neck, pearl teeth shining, dimples flashing, dusky skin lighting up with the beam of that irritating grin, of his trademark, mischievous smile.

I sighed again.

_I don't have time for this._

"What?"

"Tell you everything?"

"Yes, that's what I said. I want to know everything."

"Everything?"

"_Yes_-"

"And where exactly would everything start from?"

"The beginning," I nodded once, looking at him, at those loose curls, that naughty smile, those dancing blue eyes springing with pure life, his heels drumming against the golden stone, flute dancing among his fingers, smile snaking white, "The very beginning of everything."

A widened smile.

A choked sigh.

And then, with a roll of golden muscles, the god turned away from me, the smile dropping from his lips as he once more looked up at those golden ceiling, face sinking away into a pondering thought. Blue eyes faded away to the ceiling, smile dying, lips pulling into a stern line. Toes wiggled, golden and big.

Water gurgled like a beast.

I shivered.

_Crap._

For a moment, I just sat there, boot shuffling, staring at the silent man, at his golden profile as he laid back against the rock, eyes staring, lips quiet for once, curls licking gold as slight shivers began to make their way up my skin, crawling like thousands of insects, the medicine man's eye chiming against my cheek, reminding me of another place, another world-

He spoke.

"I suppose I should begin with who I am, what I am, and how I came be, no?"

In the silence of the golden cave, there was suddenly something quite dreamy with his voice, something faded, something lost, that simple, firm accented voice softer, quieter, a man stuck in a fog.

A small smile pulled his lips.

I cleared my throat.

"I suppose."

Silence.

And then, with a soft, sweet breath, Balder began, talking softly, talking quietly, talking up to the ceiling as his eyes dreamed away of another place, another world, golden curls laughing rich and deep.

His voice was like a dream.

_A dream._

I could barely breathe.

"Once upon a time-"

Moment gone.

"Balder-"

"Fine. I won't begin with _that,_ though from what I heard, you mortals seem to adore that particular phrasing-"

"Balder-"

"Yes, yes, yes…I heard you, child…. by the way, has anyone ever told you how annoying you are, really-"

"_Balder_-"

"Fine, fine, you little sourpuss. If you must insist, then I shall begin with a simple fact."

_Finally._

"Which is?"

"Simply that you, Joanna Wolfe, are not from the future, but from another world."

Silence.

Pure, pounding silence.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring, gaping, dripping wet, waiting for Balder to crack up his smile again, to twist his head and grin stupidly through his glossing hair, blue eyes dancing with mirth, with laugher, with unneeded humour, possibly hearing a laugh from between those flashing white teeth, a cracking joke-

Nothing.

Nada.

Zero.

Zilch.

The man remained as he was, staring up at the golden ceiling, eyes thinking, eyes far, eyes completely lost, the small smile tugging at his lips, his voice echoing with the faintest of humours, a whimsical humour but as if he himself was lost in the pool of his memories, his blatant amusement gleaming his dark face. Heels rocked back lazily, fingers drumming against his naked chest as the flute twirled in an endless, mindless dance, it's owner lost away in the depths of his mind. Curls giggled wistfully.

Eyes laughed to the golden sky.

Silence.

Pure, pounding silence.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me."

"Heard you?" I widened up my eyes, still waiting for the punch line, for that smile, my voice rising up against the golden rock, the black stalactites, brows scrunched together, tight with burning incredulity, "Heard you? I must be mistaken, because I did _not _hear you just babble about me coming from another _world-_"

"You don't believe it?"

"I came from the _future_-"

"No, me dame, " a simple shake of head, curls flipping, eyes silent, voice distant and quiet, "You are from another world, another universe, another dimension altogether."

"No-"

"Yes."

"No."

No.

No.

_No._

_No._

_It was impossible._

_No._

_No way._

_No way._

_Time travel was a myth, yes._

_It has always been a myth, a sci-fi fantasy._

_But this was earth._

_And this was the year 1712._

_This was earth._

_I was on earth._

_I had always been on earth._

_I never moved anywhere else._

_I just fell, back in time, to the 18__th__ century._

_I fell through time._

_I time-travelled._

_I didn't go to another world._

_No. _

_No way._

_No way in hell._

_Impossible._

"Impossible."

"Says the girl who just killed a dragon."

I straightened my back.

"No, no, t-that was different," I raised a single finger, calling for pause, calling for a full stop, shifting on my cold seat, voice cracking, mind whirling, twirling, spinning and churning, black and grey storming the fortress, my tongue suddenly so very sour, "C-Circe said there were obstacles…t-that the dragon and t-the…um…d-d-daemon was some sort of…I don't know…something to do with the gods-"

"To understand the gods, Joey, you must first understand that this is _not _your world, nor shall it ever be," he was still in that fog, that thick, white fog, smiling vaguely up to those black stalactites, "You will _not _be born in another 300 years, not you, nor your brother, nor anyone you ever you knew in your life-"

"Wait, I don't understand-"

"I thought I was making perfect sense-"

"You're saying that I'm from another _world_-"

"Yes…why do I have to keep repeating myself around you?"

"Maybe because you aren't making a lick of sense!"

"And why not? I'm speaking quite clearly, you know-"

"Balder-"

"You are from another world," he twisted his head around, golden curls kissing, and with a whoosh of flashing azure eyes, he spoke slowly, mockingly, the small smile dropping from his striking face as he frowned over at me, body stretching lazily, flute twirling a waltz with his clever fingers, "A parallel universe, if you will, a separate self-contained reality moving upon a completely different and foreign timeline than the one we are now on. You-"

"But the time-"

"_Time _is irrelevant, sweet, completely irrelevant at this point."

I tried to breathe.

"So your saying I'm from another planet? I'm an alien?"

"Alien?"

"That's what you're saying-"

"What I'm say-how on _earth _had anything I just said suggested that I thought you an _alien_?"

"But-"

"Don't be stupid," he shook his head, the frowning sinking deeper into his bronze face, golden locks brushing as the fog in his voice dropped away into a more annoyed tone, the whimsical, dream-like fog dissipating as fast it had first appeared, irritation lancing through his words, "You're not from another planet; you're from another universe, another reality, another world altogether-"

"I don't-"

"If you were from another planet, I would have said it. I would have said just that. Besides, I never said 'planet'. I said 'world'…. did you _even _go to school? Can't you tell the difference?"

It took all in me not to grit my teeth.

"No."

A flippant roll of leaping blue eyes.

"Of course not."

I tried to breathe again.

"Circe told me that Jared and I came from the future-"

With a long deep sigh, Balder rolled back towards the ceiling, the bright blue eyes staring back up at the golden roof, heels kicking back lazily, golden curls sprawling idly, glowing like a halo. His sigh was sweet and long, echoing off the golden walls as he drummed the flute against his naked chest, muscles rolling, sweat gleaming, his eyes fading up to the watching ceiling. Lips pulled tight, humour long gone.

I was no longer humoured myself.

Not one bit.

_If he doesn't start making sense in the next five minutes, I'm leaving._

_I don't care anymore._

_I'll take up his offer and swim down that brook, down that tunnel._

_I'll come up to the pool, hike a bit through the dark, and go back to the world above._

_I'll return back to the surface._

_I'll go back._

_I'll leave him, and his stupid cave and his stupid flute…_

_And I'll find another way. _

_Another way to get out of here._

_Another way to get Will back._

_If he keeps on talking shit like this-_

"A parallel universe is a reality created when a person has to make an important choice."

Now, he just sounded bored.

I stared.

"What?"

Another long, thick sigh.

"Choices, you little brat, choices," he exhaled dramatically, staring up at the ceiling, voice quiet, lazy, golden curls shivering along his fine bronze jaw, arms heaving with each slow breath, "It's all about choices. A person's historical choice creates a whole new universe in accordance to that choice, a divergence from the original timeline."

_What?_

"I don't-"

"People make choices, alright?" an exasperated sigh tore from his lips once more as he waved his hand into the air, the flute dancing in his loose fingers, golden curls shivering with each irritated breath, "Choices, every time, everywhere, every single day until the moment they die-mortals, immortals, daemons, spirits, monsters, about everything that was ever created, everything that ever lived. A life is not considered a life if the form never had to make a choice, to choose an alternative, to make a decision. Everything that has ever existed has always made _choices_. Simple choices, tough choices, heart-breaking choices…the works. Doesn't matter. I make choices, you make choices, even the ants at our feet are always making choices-"

"You mean like if I choose to have my hair long or short."

"Yes! That's it!" all of a sudden, the weariness, the agitation fled away from his voice, his face, his head twisting around to show off a wide beam tearing through his handsome face all over again, the keenness, the eagerness leaping back into his eyes, blue dancing with reenergised strength, golden curls laughing away the spent irritation as if it were never there, "That's exactly what I mean!"

His teeth gleamed bright and unnerving.

Irritation prickled at the back of my neck.

_What the hell was this guy up to?_

"I still don't get it-"

"Though I don't think that particular choice will actually create a parallel universe."

This time, the sigh was from me.

I swallowed in contained frustration.

"Balder, simple English. Simple words: what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about choices," the smile stretched, beaming like a crescent moon, eyes laughing brightly among the fallen golden locks, his change in mood so swift, so unnerving, his handsome face gleaming gold in the glow of the small cave, water singing a rushed tune, "Choices, important, historical choices."

"Well, like what?"

"Like you coming down here, Joanna Wolfe."

"I do-"

"Think about it this way; you had the _choice _to get off this island. You could either try to find me, or you could leave, back to the safety of your friends. What did you choose?"

"The former, obviously."

"Yes, exactly that. You chose to find me, and here you are, sitting beneath the Enfal with me, hearing this tale. You made this choice, dictating the events that has come to past."

_What?_

My head ached.

"I still-"

"Don't you get it?" and then, just like that, the smile faded away, back into his dusky skin, laugh lines receding, the laughter, the joy in his blue diluting to the usual humour, the mild humour, the excitement in his face slowly pulling back the reins as his fingers played with the slender wooden flute, silver filigree gleaming, "Don't you? At that moment, that very moment when you made the choice to stay, to stay and find me, an alternate universe was created, branching out from this one."

"An alternate universe."

"Aye, one where you had made the other choice."

_What?_

Water screamed.

"You mean leaving for the ships?"

"Yes."

"What are you-"

"The parallel universe, another reality was created with _that_ choice. Now, as we speak, another timeline has begun, another world where you left for the ships, Joey, where you abandoned the island, weary but victorious, back to the sobbing arms of your brother, to your pirate friends, forsaking the memory of Circe, deserting Will-"

"I never deserted him!"

"But you did, me dame," a small smile, a flickering smile, eyes hiding a precious secret, whispering a dear tale, "A part of you did. That unwanted choice, that valuable option now lays in another place, in another world, the cornerstone of another Joey's life taking another road, another alternative. It's really quite as simple as that."

Silence pounded.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at him, at his soft smile, his playful smile, his tossing curls and his heaving golden chest, water slowly creeping down my back, fist clenched tight in my lap. My stomach was knotted, tight as hell.

I could barely breathe.

Impossible.

_Impossible._

_Completely impossible._

"You mean there are two of me?"

I couldn't even hear my own voice.

Water hissed.

"Hundreds, actually," a quick nod, a chirpy voice, Balder nodding against the smooth stone as if he was spilling simple fact, simple, un-crazy fact, "Hundreds of you, variants of you, one for each choice you make, one for each universe you created. A normal mortal creates millions of universes in their lifetime, of varying alternative counterparts, of identical clones in the distance, completely out of reach; of course, the identically would depend on the choice that the universe is governed by. It would-"

"Hundreds?"

"Aye, most likely. You're young, you see. In time, you will make millions more."

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe at all.

_At all._

_How was I suppose to accept this?_

_How was I supposed to handle this?_

_Was it even true?_

_Was it just all a joke?_

_A brief moment of insanity?_

_After all, how could it be true?_

_How could it be sane?_

_How could it be any sense of sane?_

_Time travel was ok._

_Hell, time travel was feasible._

_Acceptable._

_Imaginable._

_But alternate universes?_

_Millions of alternate universes?_

_Millions of me?_

_How the hell was I supposed to accept that?_

_How the hell was anyone?_

Hear screamed.

"You're telling me," I spoke slowly, softly, breathing in the damp air, tasting cold stone and fresh spring at the back of my throat, my stomach turned to sawdust, my mind whirling like a hurricane, too numb to even feel anymore, "You're saying that out there, somewhere, there are hundreds of me, clones of me, living my life in completely different ways, the other options?"

A soft smile.

"Exactly."

My tongue was so dry.

"And you expect me to believe this?"

A wink of blue.

"Every word."

Fist clenched hard.

"What do you think I am? An idiot?"

"Why would I lie to you, Joey?" a little chuckle, quite sweet, like lovely passed between his lips, his head lolling back against the smooth rock, flaxen curls splaying, his cheekbones ruddy in the sandy slopes of his skin, blue eyes rolling back to the ceiling with a laugh, "Why? What would I have to gain from it?"

"I don't know-"

"So you're saying that I have spent much of my new energy over the last few weeks whispering into your ear, protecting you, saving you, making sure you stay in one piece so that in the very end of all things, you may come down here so that I could _lie _to you?"

Silence screamed.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at his lazy form, mind screaming, grinding to dust.

The medicine man's eye chimed a hollow tone.

_Great._

_Just great._

"Yesssssss…"

Another melodic chuckle.

"Not the bright one, now are you?"

"You're insane. You're story's insane; it's all nothing more then a lie-"

"I have no motive, Joey, if you haven't noticed. Lying isn't going to get me anywhere with you. Besides, I'm the god of truth. I _can't _lie."

"Sure you can't."

"Ah. A sceptic. Always a winner."

"How on earth do you expect me to believe your story?" I bit down on my lip, staring at him as he grinned up at the ceiling, golden hair gleaming like a fallen halo, "Your alternate universes, your several versions of me-"

"Technically, several versions of everyone; every being that makes choices have alternate universes of their own, different versions of their being, different lives. So, if you add it all up, it's more then millions actually. More then billions. More than trillions. More then…. zillions? Is that what comes after trillions? Zillions? Is that what it's called? Back in my day, we didn't have that sort of money-"

"There are no such things as alternate realities, as parallel universes, as variants of me-"

"Compared to the lights of time-travel?"

"Well, that makes more sense then a fucked-up lie!"

"How on earth does _time-travel _make more sense than alternate universes?"

"Much more then millions and millions of universes-"

"Zillions-"

"-flung out there, out in god-knows-where, complete separate, completely lost-"

"Actually, they are sort of stacked up together quite nicely-"

"You're lying-"

"_Why_?"

I bit my tongue.

Why?

_Why?_

_That was the million-dollar question, after all._

_Why?_

_Why would Balder lie to me?_

_What would he have to gain from it?_

_How was lying that I was from another universe and not from the future going to help him a bit?_

_What the hell was he up to?_

_What did he want?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

Silence laughed.

For a moment, for the briefest of moments, I just sat there, staring at the curls, mind whirling and twirling, screaming with agony as thoughts, as calculations screamed by, twisting, gnawing, clawing at all that I had. Temples pounded with an aching headache, my tongue dry as a desert. Heart hammered an aching drum.

Fists clenched.

Why?

_Why?_

I cleared my throat.

"Let's say you're right, " I spoke simply enough, swallowing back everything, every single thing, tongue dry and cold, water dripping slow and thick, golden curls laughing, "Let's say you're _not _lying. I don't believe it, of course, but let's just say you are telling the truth. These universes, these alternate worlds do exist."

A widened grin.

"Alright."

An inhale for patience.

My tongue was so very dry.

"Fine…if you're right, if I'm playing along…._if_….then where am I?"

It didn't take him long to answer.

"The original timeline."

I tried not to bite my tongue.

"Original timeline?"

"Aye," a simple nod as he stared up at the golden roof, the hanging dark daggers, golden curls laughing, the smile beaming across his face, radiant like the sun, sweat glinting that faint gold, "The original, the very first. Some call it the timeline of the gods."

Water rushed.

"Why?"

Another chuckle.

"Because that is what it is, Joey. That it is what it has always been. This world, this universe you are now in was the very first world that ever existed. The oldest world. This is the first thing that was ever created, the first universe ever to be born. This is the universe of the gods."

_Universe of the gods?_

"Universe of the gods?"

"Aye. Catchy. I know."

'That doesn't make any sense-"

"In the beginning, you see, before us, before you humans, before the spirits and the nymphs and the elves and the fairies and the witches and the shifters and the daemons and the shadows and the monsters…before everything, before life, there was nothing but The Void."

_The Void._

_Oh God._

_The Void._

_Circe._

_Circe's tale._

_Oh God._

_Oh fucking-_

"The darkness," I said out loud, unintentionally, voice loud and clear above the gurgling creek; with a swish of gold, Balder turned his head towards me again, my voice bringing him back down to the conversation, to me. A snaky golden eyebrow arched high in his forehead as he turned his head towards me, cheek pressed hard against the cold stone, a small smile filtering through his sandy skin, a playful look plastered about his face. Slim fingers danced with the wooden flute, dimples creaking with humour.

His heels stopped drumming.

I bit my tongue.

_Great._

"You know it."

"Circe told me about it," I nodded simply, watching my words, watching each breath, staring at him eyes wide, still registering every thought, every action into the slow data of my brain, tongue very, very dry, "About it's eternal night."

"Did she now?"

"Yes…" I kept on nodding, mind racing back to that moment, to that conversation behind the cold metal bars of the dungeons, her dark eyes watching silently as she told her tale, heart screaming alert, "She told me…she told me it was a chasm. A black, lifeless chasm…she said nothing else existed, nothing but The Void and it's darkness-"

"She wasn't wrong."

"She never said anything about your stupid idea about parallel universes."

"She was a mere witch. I'm a god. Any guesses who was much more amazing?"

"Circe."

"Of course. Feminine power."

"She was creepy, and a real bitch, but she was hell of a lot better then you, and she was my friend. Well, she was Sparrow's friend, and I guess that made her my friend…. though I never really liked Sparrow, nor did she, by the likes of it-"

"That may be so, but I'm prettier, no?"

For a moment, silence thumped as we stared across at each other, my eyes travelling over his trailing golden curls, his broad gleaming shoulders, his massive, heaving chest, his long, fine legs, his bronze tanned skin, his massive rolling muscles, his crack of grinning white teeth, his flashing blue eyes…

"Hmm."

"Hmm? Seriously?"

"I've seen better."

"Better? _Better?_ I'm the god of beauty! I'm the god of all that is pure and lovely in all the universes-"

"Wait, how many titles do you _even_ have?"

"I lost count."

I just shrugged in agreement.

For a moment, neither of us said a word, letting the sound of rushing water envelop us, cover us, Balder turning his head back towards the ceiling, blue eyes beaming up towards the golden roof, fair curls a whipping. Water still blotted the sands around my feet.

Cold irked at the back of my neck.

I cleared my throat.

"You were telling me about The Void."

"You already know about it."

"I suppose," I nodded again, staring at him as he grinned stupidly up at the ceiling, beaming like an idiot, smiling for no apparent reason, his face wavering between the eagerness of his eyes and the proper aging of his face, "She did….Well, she did say that you, and the other gods were born out from The Void. Fully grown and all."

No arguments.

"We did."

A raised eyebrow.

"You just came to be?"

Creepy smile.

"Yup."

A harsh breath.

"No one knows how?"

A widened smile.

"No one cares."

I tried not to snap.

"So you're saying that you and the rest of the gods just appeared?" I said simply, not even trying to keep the disbelief out of my voice, "That you sprang out of The Void fully grown, fully ready?"

"That's about right."

"And that you actually destroyed The Void after that?"

This had me rewarded with a sneaky wink from the fair god.

"You _have_ been paying attention."

"No more then I should."

"So I suppose you know what happens next?"

"You created the world," I nodded again, staring at him, watching as his breath shivered the soft tendrils of his tender blonde hair, "You and…your siblings, I guess, created the world. The universe."

"This universe."

"This universe?"

"Aye," a nod of golden curls, grin cracking like a whip of lightning, water rushing like a storm, "This universe. After I had defeated The Void-destroyed it really-my brothers, sisters and I began to create this world, this universe that you are now in. That you are trapped in. It was the very first thing we did, creating the world, creating this place, shaping the mountains, the seas, the stars-"

"Humans?"

"Yes, that too, along with every other thing that ever was, that ever will be. We created this world, Joey. This is our world. Our universe."

For another brief moment, I just sat there, eyes trailing away from Balder stupid grin to stare down at the toes of my boots, studying the grimy sand beneath the rusty edges, blood stained against the black. Fingers kneaded together, harsh against my lap.

My mind screamed.

_Impossible._

_How was this possible?_

_How was this remotely possible?_

_It can't be._

_It shouldn't. _

_No._

_No._

_No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No-_

"How did you kill it? The Void, I mean. How did you destroy it?"

"With that," with the tip of his wooden flute, Balder tossed back his arm and pointed blindly back, towards the door; there, just as I had left it, sitting in the golden dust, was the sword, bright and gleaming, glowing faintly in the golden tint of the cave. Ruby burned bright, blinking sleepily.

Gold beamed a reassuring smile.

I cleared my throat.

"The sword."

"_My _sword."

"How?"

"Is that really important?"

"Well, no-"

"Then, let's get back to the story!"

"What story?" I frowned again, the muscles in my face already beginning to ache from all the frowning and pouting, brows bunched tight, "I already know all this. Circe told me. There was The Void; you guys came out from it like a rabbit pulled from the hat; you destroyed The Void with your sword, apparently; then, you and your little family went about creating the earth-"

"The universe."

"Right. The universe."

"_This_ universe."

"But what about the other worlds then?" the medicine man's eyes chimed against my cheek, stirring with each breath, Balder's gleaming smile still infuriating me, "The parallel universes you kept on rambling about. The choices people make, and the worlds that are created from it-"

"No, no," he shook his head against the stone, fair curls brushing, his eyes still dancing up to the golden roof, smile cracking a brilliant white, "We didn't have anything to do with those. After The Void, we created _this _world, _this _world, _these _animals and spirits and human beings-"

"What about the zillions of alternate realities?"

"We didn't create those."

_What?_

A finger snapped up to rub away the knot in my temple.

"Ok. So you're telling me that you created this universe, this world, but not the other innumerable parallel universes that you know so much about?"

A cheeky smile.

"Yup."

Another sigh.

"Then, who did?"

This time, Balder just shrugged his massive golden shoulders.

"Now, that's the question, isn't it?"

I wanted to punch him again.

For the next minute or so, we sat in silence, listening to the gurgling waters as my mind whirled with thoughts, churning with all the facts, still trying to understand. Teeth bit hard down against my lower lip as I thought and thought, my mind a clutter of whirling wind, of sandstorms and hurricanes, the facts, the newly-acquired facts pushing past the sceptic barrier, trying to verify with my logical side. Fingers numbed and boots drummed as I sat in silence, thinking so very hard, and so very long….

Balder kept smiling at the roof.

Finally, after a long breath, I spoke again, voice bitter in my throat.

My heart wouldn't stop screaming.

"Where am I from then?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said that after The Void was destroyed, you and the other gods created this world and only this world. This is your universe. The other alternative worlds are not your creations. Where does that put me than? Where am I from?"

His smile was like a brand of white against his dusky skin.

I gulped.

"One of the other alternate universes."

"Which one? Whose?"

"Don't know. Lost count."

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you _even _count?"

"It's not my fault!" he whined, his accented voice rolling about the golden cave as he pouted helplessly, sounding evermore like an irksome child, a brat, "I'm bad at _numbers_-"

"What kind of god doesn't know math?"

"I'm the god of light and peace! I'm not Thoth! If you want someone to play around with numbers for you, find him, not me- besides, he will never be as pretty as me-"

"Right. Because being pretty is extremely important."

"Of course it is! It's up there, just below bananas."

I began to rub both temples.

_I'm going to kill him._

_I swear, I'm going to murder-_

"Ok," I cleared my throat, pushing back the pulsing annoyance, the boiling frustration that roiled beneath my skin, teeth clenched hard together, Balder still smiling up at that roof, "So let me try this again. There was The Void; you and your family came out of it; you destroyed it; then you guys created this world and all that lived in it, people and all-"

"Well, we took turns actually; my sister, Gaia, created you humans, while Hel had her own creations-"

"Yeah, yeah….but what happened after that?"

"Huh?"

"The story," I nodded my head, reining in my pulsing frustrations, biting down on my tongue, golden locks whishing like fair thread, "Your story. You had this new world, this new place. What happened to it?"

For a second, Balder didn't say a word.

Not one word.

His breath was so very sweet.

_So sweet._

Then, in the quiet of the rushing stream, he spoke again, his plain, strong voice catching on that dreamy tone again, that whimsical nature, as if he had taken a breath and fallen right back into the thick fog of dreams.

The fog of memories.

His voice was just a whisper.

"Well, what always happens to new worlds; it prospered. It grew, " golden curls shivered, blue eyes fading once more the bright ceiling, smile spreading like a vapid fog, each breath like a dream, his voice gliding far away, lost, adrift over a pale sea of thoughts, "Together, my brothers, sisters and I created this garden, this playground; it was our home, you see. Our new home. We came out of the darkness and created a wonderland, a paradise, a place that we could live in, a place that we could love. We created life for our companions, our partners- some of my siblings wanted worshippers, really, and others like me just wanted companions, friends, comrades and alliances, life to share our world with, life to make it all that more grand. It was quite beautiful, really, quite astounding, quite peaceful. So many bananas."

"Sounds like the historical stories of my own universe."

"Every alternate universe shares the same stories and same history as this one. You all share our history, but you all have different outcomes."

"But why is your universe in the 18th century? Mine is in the 21st century."

"Time parallel."

_What?_

"What?"

"Time parallel, Joey," his voice was still so lost, so very lost, his smile lopsided, carefree, fair locks bristling against his lost eyes as he stared up into another time, another place, "When we created this universe, we first let things carry on smoothly. Time moved. Human beings, the children of Gaia, grew; modelled after us, they began to spread, growing in size and strength. The nymphs had several too, but not as much as the humans, as the mortals. It really was a trial-and-error when it came to creating life, the different races of life, but after millions of years, my sister finally it got it right with the humans. The mortals. Your race. You were brilliant. Brilliant creations. Vulcan was often jealous but even he could not deny her creation; you mortals were the perfect companions, the perfect life."

"Perfect."

"Yes. Perfect. You were modelled after us, but were mortal, beings without a single shred of magic, completely vulnerable. A violent race, perhaps, brutal and evil, but admirable companions. Great companions."

I cleared my throat.

"Why?"

He sounded like a dream.

"Maybe because you worshipped us, all over the world. Unlike the nymphs and daemons and shifters and witches, you lot actually knew who your masters were. You were grateful. You worshipped us, honoured us in your several tongues, naming us and sacrificing for us. The northern people were especially kind to me."

"Europeans?"

"Aye. But the others too, all about the world. We were worshipped. We were loved. The ancients of the human race revered us."

I fingered the medicine man's eye.

"What does this has to do with the year?"

A sigh drifted through his full lips.

"What is it with you and time?"

"Just answer the question."

"It isn't really important -"

"What happened?"

"Time parallels, Joey, time parallels."

_What?_

"What?"

"Don't ask me," there was a languid drawl beginning to inch into his voice, gnawing at the edges of his wistful tone, golden curls pensive, "One of the rules."

"What rules?"

"You know. The rules."

"Balder-"

"It's just how it works, Joey, just like how the parallel universes exists, the different choices, the different outcomes. Things change in alternative realities, and so does time."

"I don't understand."

A long sigh.

"Time _parallels_; when life changes in the new alternate universe, time does as well, moving very differently from the universe it was created from and hence, from this original world. Time moves differently in all worlds, in all realities, some at hyper speed, some incredibly slow. You could have made that choice to come down and find me only a few hours ago, but the alternate reality created for the other choice, the one where you had departed for the ships, could already see you back on land, nursing you wounds-"

"I don't-"

"Time is a shape-shifter, Joey, moving differently for everyone."

Silence.

Clawing, gnawing silence.

"That doesn't make sense."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't. Where's the maths? There's got to be some calculations-"

"Would you just shut up about the maths?"

"It just doesn't make any sense!"

"Nothing does!" with a sudden whip of golden curls, Balder suddenly twisted his head around, his voice rising to crash against the golden walls, his blue eyes wide and bright, the distant fog that had coated his voice, his body, his mind dissipating, melting away, light and strength prancing in his eyes, waking again, "I have been trapped here for over 4000 years! You would think that I have been out of touch for a little while!"

"Fine!" I rose my voice to match his, a growl biting at the back of my throat as I returned his bright glare with my own, teeth grinding together, stomach churning tight, anger beginning to prick against my skull, "Then explain something you _do _know! Something that you owe me!"

"Owe you?"

"After everything you put me through-"

"You mean-"

"Fuck, just tell me something!"

For a moment, for a still, silent moment, my heart froze as Balder just stared at me through the shivers of his golden curls, eyes bright and alive, lips pulled tight, nose sharp. His chest heaved softly, breathing in the dank air in long deep breaths. Wooden flute twirled like a summer's dance.

Water giggled like a fairy's laugh.

Breath drew, ragged and raw.

Heart felt cold and dead.

His voice was a whisper.

"Want to hear about the time I died?"

**OK!**

**So there it was. **

**Please tell me if you found it hard to understand and if my writing is too messy! I myself got quite lost half the time, so please leave reviews on wherether it was too complicated to be interesting. **

**Also, please leave any comments about how the story is going so far. Do you like it? LET ME KNOW! Thanks for everything and see you soon!**

**XOXO**


	55. The Annoying Truth

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs. Especially Balder.**

**Ok, so this is a really long chapter, mainly because there are lot of things to say, and a lot of things to do. Sorry guys! **

**Here we go!**

**Chapter 52: The Annoying Truth**

"Everyone loved me."

"Sure they did."

"I'm not joking," Balder said simply enough, nodding up to the golden ceiling, to the gleaming black stalactites, golden curls kissing against the edges of his tanned hands as he folded them behind his head, resting the flaxen curls on his fleshy palms. Bright gold giggled down his jaw line, stirring with each breath; his body was in the same position he had been from the very start, lying back on the smooth pale rock, muscles heaving with golden sweat. His chest laid bare and gold, the tips of his toes wiggling with a silent tune, dusty with sand, heels drumming quietly. Sand streaked across the dark of his pants as his perfect torso stirred with each long breath, golden up into the bright cavern, muscles rolling and purring like milk cream in the gleam of light. Teeth gleamed like pearls through the sandy dusk of his ageless face.

Blue eyes laughed with raw freedom.

_Great._

_He's smiling again._

With a long sigh, I slumped my shoulder down, letting the exhaustion ripple through me, stretching through me, my fingers trailing away from the chiming medicine man's eye; throughout the small golden cavern, the sigh was so very obvious, echoing, resounding, bouncing off the sleek, polished walls, a dozen sighs whispering against the rocks. Off to the side, at the back of the grotto, the underground brook hissed a loud tune, water gurgling past at a vehement speed, white froth licking into the golden air, little waves crashing. Air stirred sweet and moist.

The door sat quietly in the rock.

Silent.

Waiting.

_Go, Joey._

_Leave._

_Get out of here before it's too late._

_Get out of here and be done with all-_

Balder had already started talking.

"I'm completely serious," Balder's firm voice resonated, prying above the rushing waters, his 'r' rolling out of control in his strange, unheard accent, his golden curls laughing as he stared up at the roof with his usual cracking smile, blue eyes dancing with brilliant energy, his face as young as I had first saw him, "Everyone did love me."

Another sigh to control myself.

"And who exactly is everyone?" It was a drawl, really, a thick, slow drawl dragging out of my mouth, tearing away from my lips, my hands curled despondent upon my lap, hair limping damp against my naked shoulders; it was finally setting in, the exhaustion, the tiredness, the pure lethargy after everything had happened, after all the fights and deaths and blood and stupid, nonsensical gods-

But did it matter?

No.

Not at all.

In front of me, lying flat, flute twirling in his hand beside his head, Balder just kept on talking, grinning up at the golden ceiling, voice like needles stabbed into my back.

My own back was beginning to ache.

_Just go, Joey._

_Leave._

_Walk out that door, or down that stream like he said._

_Take a hike._

_Get out of here._

_Leave this rambling fool-_

"Everyone."

Yet another groan.

"Balder-"

"_Everyone_, me dame," he nodded again, grinning like an idiot, water rushing against the rocks as his azure eyes leaped with a bright tune, dancing and whirling with joy, "Everyone. Spirits, nymphs, druids, warlocks, humans…. in fact, _especially _humans. Do you know how grateful they are? Your kind? Well, not exactly _your _kind, seeing as your from another world- but it should mean the same thing, I think-"

"Balder, what on earth are you trying to say now?"

"That everyone loved me," I could stop the second sigh, the weary sigh but Balder acted like he had not even heard it, lying back against the thick of his palms, feet rocking north, muscles rolling as his golden curls purred against sandy dunes, smile like whiplash of brilliant white, "They really did. They really, really did. They really, really, really-"

"Why?"

"Because I saved them, Joey. I destroyed The Void. True, my brothers and sisters did a lot more on the whole creation front, but if not for me and my amazing swordsmanship-"

"The Void would have never been destroyed."

"And creation could never have happened," he beamed, obviously proud, praising up to the ceiling, feet rocking like that of a child's, "The Void was darkness, and I brought light. I was the victor, the hero. The champion! I am the god of light and joy, and beauty and music and peace-"

Another sigh.

"Great. Good to know."

"No, you don't get it," he shook his head, still smiling though, golden curls whiplashing against the dark of his skin, muscles rolling softly, gleaming gold, his bare chest heaving with each strong breath as his voice echoed about the pale grotto, water singing a melody, "Everyone _loved _me. When they were not worshipping me and praising me, they feared me. While my brothers and sisters were hailed as the rulers and creators, I was the idol, the champion. The hero! Yes, dame, I was a hero! A real hero! Your kind, the humans, created idols to celebrate my siblings, idols and temples, but I was loved in prayer. I was loved in song. Songs, Joey! Beautiful songs! I used to go among them, the humans and the druids and all the creations of my families; they had the wildest parties, you see, wildest than even my sister's, parties where _I _was the guest of honour, parties where I was honoured, ale pouring, food galore, sweet grapes and pomegranates-"

I resisted the urge to sigh all over again

"So, in other words, they adored you."

Balder's grin was like a beam of starlight upon the dusky sands of his skin.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Fingers knotted together.

"Brilliant."

"You should have seen my hall, Joey," he smiled, beaming up at the roof, staring straight up into the dangling black stalactites, golden locks kissing, giggling, an ideal potrait of a man lying against rock, relaxed and blessed, lost in the joy of his memories, "My home. Humans had so many names for them, so many dumb names, but I called it Feltara. The Palace of Feltara. Really. You should have seen it. So many wanted to."

Water hissed, growing impatient.

So was I.

I bit my lip.

"Is there a point to this?"

"Well, of course there's a point this! Why do you think I'm telling you about it? For fun?"

"Actually, yes."

"To hear the story, you need to know the setting of it, you insolent brat," he had a funny way of scolding me, his lips still carved in an endless smile, his blue eyes still staring up at the roof, beaming with boundless energy, every muscles in his face rolling with the keenness of a child, his firm voice rolling with the accent, dabbed with humour and not irritation, his harsh words odd in the strange tone, "You need to understand what I was. _Who _I was. I was Balder! I was the god of light and beauty. I was the god that had destroyed The Void. I was the hero. I was the champion. I was loved. From the beginning of time, the beginning of creation, I leapt about this universe, mingling with the mortals, with the inventions. Humans, nymphs, witches, spirits; I knew them all! Every single one of them. Perhaps not so much with the humans, but definitely with the nymphs. Aye! Definitely nymphs! After all, have you ever seen the nymph maidens? Have you seen them? Have you? Nasty creatures, truly, but The Void forbid the thighs on those maidens-"

"Ok, ok," I quickly staggered, hands raising in reflex, palm first, a call of pause, of hesitation, my throat gulping back, not particularly keen in finding out what Balder thought about the female anatomy of nymphs, "Don't really need to know that. Scratch that. Don't need to know that _at all_. I get it. You were loved. You had a pretty palace. Big deal."

"It was a big deal," he corrected simply, still grinning, still happy, staring up at the roof as if he was truly staring at something else, at the folded pages of his memories, of the images, the stories long past, "I was. The humans _so _adored me- at times, it got irritable, but a good lug of sweet ale always solved any problems. Of course, the initial creations, the lesser forms, the hominids as you would call it, didn't pay much heed to us at first. The animals never really cared for us too, perhaps 'till this day. But after we evolved them, give you lot a good set of brains, adapting them, surviving them…well, they began to appreciate us a little more. The children were especially fond of me; my, Joey, you should have seen their faces every time I brought out the sword. Even grown man would pay me their wives to handle the blade for just a few minutes!"

Here was curious part.

_At last._

"The blade?" I voiced out, hands falling back into my lap, my eyes helplessly dragging away from the laid-back god towards the sword that still lay in the dust, near the door; it was as I had left it, beaming bright among the golden dust, its raw, clean edge pointed right at me, gold gleaming like a trapped sunbeam. The ruby danced brilliant, fiery and hot among the pale.

Water whispered against the fair rocks.

_Here's another chance, Joey._

_Go._

_Leave._

_Leave that sword behind, and go into the water._

_Escape._

_Get out of here._

_Leave, before it's too late-_

"My sword, Joey," he said simply enough, still smiling like the idiot he was, bright and eager, his face beautiful and bright in the wash of the golden rocks, young and alive, so very alive, "The blade you found. The blade that saved you. The very blade that has connected me to you, that has allowed me to see you and help you and whisper to you all this while. The sword. My sword. Don't you understand?"

The sighs were coming back.

"No."

His smile was like a dream.

"It was with this blade that I destroyed The Void. That I ruined it. This sword, Joey. This very sword. It was this blade that had hunted down the black heart and stabbed it right through the chest. This is the blade that had destroyed evil."

Evil.

_Evil._

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the sword gleaming silently among the scattered dust, smiling sadly, grinning quietly; it was impossible, wasn't it?

Surreal.

All this time, all this fucking time, I had been holding on to a sword that had, supposedly, destroyed such a thing.

Such a monster.

I had been holding on to a sword that had created life.

A sword that paved the way for universe.

A legend, surely.

_A myth._

_After all, why would such a thing exist?_

_Why would any of this exist?_

_Had I truly been holding to such a thing?_

_Such a legend?_

_Such a powerful tool, in the grasps of my hands?_

_I understood it's worth._

_I understood it from Circe's shrill scream, back in her little tree hut-_

_But this?_

_A destroyer of evil?_

_A destroyer of _the _evil?_

_A force of it's own? _

_A killer? _

_A slayer?_

_Would that explain everything?_

_Could that be the explanation?_

_Was that why?_

_Was that why I had survived for so long?_

_Was that why I was alive?_

_The sword?_

_Was that why I could kill the siren?_

_Was that why I could survive in a freaking war?_

_Was that why I could kill a dragon?_

_Was that why?_

_Was it?_

_The sword?_

_Has it always just been the sword?_

_Just the sword?_

For a moment, for a silent moment, I just stared at the blade, mind whirling, twirling, storms raging as thoughts flew about, wild and sharp. Disbelief gnawed away at my heart.

_Just the sword?_

I could barely hear my voice.

"Every time I was in danger," it was murmur, a gentle, soft murmur, mind twisting and turning, wincing and biting as I stared at the glowing blade, tongue numb, fingers dead, "Every time I was scared, the sword saved me. It glowed. It became warm, and then, like the snap of fingers, I didn't feel frightened anymore. I didn't feel scared. I would be so cold, so very cold, and then the sword would warm me, hug me, the…the heat just coursing through me, making me feel strong. I always felt strong with it. Always. When I killed the siren…and Metus- the warmth woke me out there, I'm sure of it, the warmth and your voice-"

"It is how the sword works," he was now smiling at me, from across the other arch, cheek flat upon the smooth rock, messy golden curls shying across his brilliant blue eyes, stringy and pale, his 'r' rolling across the smooth golden walls as he smiled over at me, his beautiful face beaming with the laughter in his eyes, "How it has always worked."

My throat was so dry.

"It makes you warm?"

"It makes you _strong_."

"Strong enough to kill a dragon."

"Just about."

"H-How?"

"Magic, dame," he smiled contently, blissful, the flute twirling about in his fingers leaning over the side of his head, golden locks shivering with each strong breath, water slapping against rocks at the back, silence pounding, screaming for attention, "Pure magic. Gods' magic. When I was created, when I was forged out of The Void, the blade was already with me, fully created, perfected in my sheath. It was powerful on it's own, created by whoever had created me, strong and bright, like a star in the pounding darkness. It was strong from the start. It gave strength. I still don't know how."

"Gods' magic?"

His smile made him even more beautiful.

"Didn't you break your arm, Joey?"

_What?_

For a few second, a few quick seconds, confusion crumpled in me, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing, bewilderment gnawing at my brain as I pulled my eyes away from the chuckling blue to stare down at my body-

_Yes._

_Now, that I remember it_

_Yes._

_I _had _broken my arm._

_I most definitely had._

_I had broken my left arm._

_It was shattered._

_Rygor had picked me up and threw down on the mountain side-_

_Or was it the first tumble?_

_Or after them at all, 'cause I'm pretty sure I had heard a crack back than-_

_Not to mention the pain, and all the blood afterwards._

_Then again, my skin was so bloodied, so ruined, that the blood might have just come from all those cuts and bruises, not a broken arm-_

_But I couldn't even use it during the fight._

_I couldn't even feel it back than._

_Maybe it really was broken-_

My arm wasn't broken.

It was sitting there, crossed from my lap, the yellow sleeve torn and dirtied, stained with red, dried blood crusting the edges of my wrists-

But there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

No marks, no scratches.

No broken bones.

Nothing.

Nada.

_Zilch._

"What the fuck?"

With frantic fingers, I dug away the tattered cloth, pushing it back, drawing it upwards so as to reveal the naked of my arm, to check on it-

It was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

_What the fuck?_

It was just there, just lying there, perfect golden skin blocked from the months of sun, an odd contrast to the dusky bronze of my shoulders and face, sticking out against the dark of my pants; it was flawless, perfect, the skin the smooth natural tan of my skin, unmarked, unscratched. There was no blood, no tearing of skin, no foul, disgusting pus gathering among clotted blood, no trailing streams of red, no putrid flesh vapid and open to all sorts of infections, no gleaming nook of broken bone piercing through tender flesh like a ravaged claw-

No pain.

_Oh God._

_Oh fucking God._

For a moment, I just sat there, staring, glaring, my mind frozen, my body frozen, the sudden thought, the sudden revelation freezing me, stopping me, stilling the breath in my lungs.

My heart froze.

_Oh God._

_Oh fucking God._

No pain.

Not a single pain.

From the moment I had woken up, from the moment the world had exploded and I had opened my eyes to a world of falling black ash-

Nothing.

Nothing.

No pain.

Not a single pain.

No wincing ache.

No panging throb.

No pounding, pulsing pain racing through my body, tearing through my skin.

No streaks of brilliant agony.

No grief.

No torture, no anguish, no-

No hell.

No.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

The pain, the memory of the pain, of tearing, screaming pain, of skin peeling, of bones smashing, of slashing, twisting, tremoring, stabbing, roiling, sorrowing, lancing, burning-

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

It was as if it had never been there.

Never at all.

No marks of scratches, no clotted flesh torn open, ravaged and raw.

No streaming blood.

No blood.

None at all.

_WHAT THE FUCK-_

With a sudden yelp, I jumped to my feet, dust scattering, fingers searching my skin, searching for any trace of violence, of agony, mind whirling with the very possibility of absolute insanity; both arms were clean, absolutely clean, the old faint scars of the sirens the only blemishes in the golden skin, no blood, no stain, no putrid flesh, crusty dried blood munching along the sides, remnants of something that no longer existed. Sleeves stained red and black, tattered and ruined, but the skin was flawless, perfect, as if-

As if it never had happened.

With frantic fingers, I kept on poking about, hurried, panicked, mind spinning and spinning out of control, tongue numb with dread, sweat dripping slow and thick; a single finger thumbed down against the bullet wound in my hip, the wound where a bullet had grazed by during the fight on the ships, tearing through leather, cloth, skin, flesh and blood-

There was no pain.

Absolutely no pain.

I pressed harder, but there was no more wincing pain, no more dull throbbing aching with each step, my finger slipping into the tear of the leather-

Only to meet calm, smooth skin.

Flawless skin.

Perfect skin.

_Oh God._

_Oh God._

_This isn't happening._

_This can't be happening._

_No._

_No way._

_No fucking._

_It's impossible._

_It's completely-_

It began a fervent search, all about my body, hands reaching, fingers touching, palms skimming over skin, checking for blood, checking for pain. Hands ran down my legs, my dark pants, blood stained dry and thick into the cotton, red crusting along the edges of the metal boots. Shoulders laid bare and dry, completely untouched, hair still dripping wet down my back, thick and matted with red, not a single pinch of pain. Hands kept grabbing at my left arm, at my elbow, checking if it was broken, checking if it even had ever been broken, thumbing along, pressing and squeezing, mind racing with all sorts of thoughts. Hands that were once ruined, bloody and red, mangled skin and flesh, were normal again, perfect again, no more blood, no more pain, a perfect body crusted here and there with splatters of dried blood, like a dream of yesterday. Nothing hurt, nothing ached.

I was completely healed.

Completely healed.

Healed.

Saved.

_Saved._

_Oh God._

_Oh fucking God._

_What the hell?_

_What the fuck?_

_How could this have happened?_

_How could this be real?_

_Am I dreaming?_

_Please, am I dreaming?_

_Please tell me I'm dreaming._

_Please tell me this is dream._

_A nightmare._

_Please tell me I can wake up, any minute now-_

Balder was speaking again.

"Fascinating, isn't it?"

I could barely breathe.

"Fascinating?" I was gasping, gasping away, staring wide-eyed up at the grinning god, my voice choked, my breath caught, numbs hands trailing away from my healed body, mind twisting and turning, losing itself to a dark, whirling, ravaging storm of utter confusion, of utter terror "_Fascinating_? How on earth is this _fascinating_? Where are my wounds? Where the fuck are they?"

His smile was like a captured sliver of starlight.

"I'm sorry. Did you want to feel the pain?"

It took everything in me not to scream out loud, to throw my hands down and run off, to pretend that none of this was real, that none of this was possible.

_Everything._

I tried to steady my breathing.

"Maybe," I answered softly, voice choking, willing myself never to look down at my body again, hands held at a wide berth from something that logic said was impossible, from a darn miracle," Perhaps. It would make me feel a little more human."

His answer was a scoff.

"Typical human," he mocked, twisting his strong neck back around to stare up at the ceiling again, golden curls dancing, blue eyes piercing high up onto the golden rock, laughing with mirth, dancing with glee, his smile cheeky and mischievous, clearly enjoying every moment of my numbing, clawing panic, heart racing wild and free, "You lot _always_ think that your kind is the _only _race that can feel pain, eh!"

"That's because we're mortal."

A shrug of curious fair eyebrows.

"Ah. Never quite thought of that-"

"Besides, humans don't _heal_," I stuttered, reining control, keeping control, swallowing gulps of saliva as I stared at his shivering curls, the brook jeering from its craven banks, "_I _don't heal. Not this fast anyway; no, no way. If I had broken my arm-"

"Which you did."

"-then it would take me _months _to heal, not hours, not a single day-"

"Unless you had the sword."

I blinked slowly.

"You're saying the sword healed me."

A twist of curls, and then a cheeky wink.

"Exactly."

I was gasping all over again.

It took me a moment to breathe in, to settle down, to accept the fact that this had happened, that this wasn't dreamed, that all the pain and all the blood had been taken away, a burden lifted me off me, saving me. My mind turned and twisted, screaming with each tumultuous thought, tumbling along ravaged rocks, wind blasting, whirling words about. Sweat dripped, slow and thick, dropping down along with the last few drips of underground spring water. The brook snarled, suddenly loud and clear.

I had to close my eyes.

_God._

For a moment or so, I stood there, eyes shut, thinking and pondering, settling down, calming down, breathing in the dank, humid air.

Then, with a loud exhale, I opened my eyes and spoke again, voice trembling beneath the shaking of my mind.

My tongue was so numb.

"The light," I breathed, staring down at the golden curls, the dancing, leaping eyes, heart caught still, throat tight as I whispered out into the quiet cave, the rushing stream whispering against its damp banks, "That was when it happened, wasn't it? The light…. back above, before I…I killed Rygor…I touched the blade and…and the light…the heat-"

"Consumed you?"

His voice was strangely quiet.

"As if everything had just burned away."

"It did," he smiled, grinning up at the ceiling, curls dancing, laughing, the pounding in my head cooling down, reining in, my breathing slowly pulling itself together as my body began to calm down, the loud crystal hiss of the running stream creeping along my spine, meditative in my ear," In a way, it did just that."

My heart was returning back to normal.

My voice still trembled though.

"What did? The sword?"

He nodded slowly, staring up at the golden roof.

"Yup."

My throat was slackening.

"H-How?"

"Magic, silly," he said simply enough, my heart slowing down, returning to normal, the churning of my mind taking a notch down, water murmuring a soft tune, "It's all about magic. Big magic. Strong magic. The magic that made me. The magic that made that sword. Whose magic, we don't know. We'll probably never know. Despite the stories you might hear, Joey, it was the sword that defeated The Void. It was the sword that gave me strength. We all spilled out of The Void, into the deep, inky black, and when it came down to the fight, to the battle between me and The Void-"

"It made you strong."

A soft chuckle rose up to the ceiling, above the torrent stream, low and smooth, creamy white. The medicine man's eye danced along to the little snigger.

Golden curls sighed like a pale dream.

Heart pounded long and deep.

_Normal._

He's voice was caught in a dream.

"There was a time, Joey, that I thought all I was, all that I could be, was entitled to the sword."

I cleared my throat.

"Was it?"

Another chuckle.

"Of course not. I wouldn't be here if it was, now would I?"

Silence pounded into the still roof.

For a few minutes or so, we kept our silence, each lost in our thoughts; my mind whirled at the possibility, at the _fact, _that the sword was something more, that it had always been something more, a key, a source, a heart of some sort emanating pure, unadulterated power, binding, fiery force, endless, burning strength. A blade, a weapon, that had somehow allowed Balder to communicate with me, to save me, to protect me, a rapier, a sword that could, in its way, infuse such strength, some power, some raw, boasting brawn. Thoughts flew, images swept as my mind churned around the sword, around this magical thing, this powerful thing, this centre, this heart, this core…

Yes.

That was it was.

A core.

A core of unbelievable power.

_A core of magic._

For a few minutes, silence screamed through the hissing waters, loud and clear, thoughts yelling.

My tongue was so very numb.

"Why are you here then?"

He was still smiling an idiot.

"Huh?"

"Why are you here?" I repeated, voice trembling ever so slightly, my back arching with exhaustion as I stared over at his golden locks, his fair eyes, a part of me suddenly wanting to run back to the sword and pick it up, to hold it close, to let it protect me, changing the subject around as the water gurgled and giggled," Down here, I mean. How did you get here?"

His voice was still so humoured.

"You mean in this grave?"

I tried to ignore the sword for a little bit.

"So this is really a grave?"

"Aye. What else does it look like?"

"I don't know," I shook my head slightly, slowly sitting down again as I shook away all thoughts of the sword, staring over the golden curls, heels drumming together, voice still quiet," Was never one for visiting graves."

"Well, you should do it more. Quite thrilling, if you ask me. There is no way better to spend your nights then prowling about the cemeteries; in fact, one time, on a quicksie to Southern Peru, about 10000 years ago or so-"

"I'm not interested in your depraved hobbies."

"No. You want to know how I died."

"That's why I'm down, aren't I?" my voice was becoming firmer with each second, with each fleeting second, fingers knotted together on my lap, my hands still refusing to go anywhere near where they were should be blood and gaping, painful wounds, my eyes still flickering back and forth between the god and his sword in the dust, "That's why I was led here, wasn' t it? By god knows who? Something to do with your death? Something about you being trapped here?"

His voice was still a chuckle.

"Oh, I think it has everything to do with me being trapped here."

A familiar sigh rattled through my bones.

"What the hell do you mean?"

His grin reminded me of a certain cat in a certain crazy fairytale.

"Have you ever heard of universal hiking?"

_What?_

"What?"

It came out as a tired drawl, rather then an interested question; suddenly, in all the gasping and confused breathing, I had lost my strength, my mind now too tired and exhausted to ponder even more, to get upset over the simplest of things, to show a flicker of interest. Thoughts about the glowing sword, about the healed wounds lingered, hovered as I stared out over at the blonde god, head pulsing with a harsh headache as the topic changed into-

Well, into something that might just require me to think all over again.

_Great. _

_Just great._

Balder's voice was all chirpy again.

"Well, do you like it? Do you? I came up with it, you know. 'Universal hiking'. I kind of like it, actually. Has a sort of ring to it. A catchy ring. Sounds like something you would say on a daily basis, you know- you'll be talking to your mate, and he'll be saying, 'How 'bout we go off on some universal hiking, eh? We could both use the break'. And then, you'll be telling him, ' Aye, I heard it's good this time of year. Perfect weather everywhere. Brilliant thing, universal hiking, don't you think? Absolutely brilliant! A quick vacation back and forth, millions of spots to choose from; if we picked carefully enough, we might just get lucky on some good ol' fishing grounds-"

"What the hell is universal hiking?"

"Nothing more then a the hike between universes, between alternate realities, really. I'm done it loads of times."

My brow crinkled even more, exhaustion pinching like crab pincers.

Water hissed its rushing tune.

"Hiking?"

"You know, travel between the different worlds."

Now, my interest was peaked all over again.

"You can do that?"

"Well, _I _can. You can't," Balder stated simply enough, grinning up at the roof like the fool he was, his handsome face bright with the beam of his cheeky smile, curls twirling a dance of bright gold as his naked chest heaved with each, sweet breath, "I'm a god, remember? I'm awesome."

"You mean you can travel between worlds?"

"Between, up, down, side to side, under, above-"

He paused then, for a brief moment, and with a swish of dainty curls, he twisted his neck and flashed his mischievous little smile at me, winking a bright blue eye, a naughty gleam washing over his handsome face. Something impish screamed from his voice.

His voice could barely contain his amusement.

"And that's just how good I am in the bedroom."

I didn't even try to hide my snarl.

"You're disgusting," I stated clear enough, hands trailing upwards to fold in a defiant, lips curled away in disdain, glaring over at his puckish face, his playful eyes, his smirking lips, water laughing against the smooth rocks, "Even more than Sparrow."

"Trade of being the god of beauty, my sweet."

"Yeah, and for being stuck down here for over 4000 years."

At this, Balder's face changed; with a cry of dramatic agony, he pushed his arms out from under his head and dangled them along the sides of the rock, stretched out beyond his head, the silver filigree glinting on wooden flute as he tossed his head up towards the ceiling, golden curls shaking. His body stretched, long and linear, and in a flash, a snapping, bright flash, Balder's cheeky, playful demeanour gave way to a dramatic, theatrical display, lips curled away in mock sorrow. A pretend moan escaped from his lips, his handsome features collapsing away into the art of over-acting.

Blue eyes flared away in mock torture.

I rolled my eyes.

_God._

_What a freak._

"No, Joey!" he moaned, a thespian once again, stretching out upon the pale rock, as if in agony, writhing slightly, pulsing with false pain, a fist reaching down to clench over his naked heart, face twisted, lost in the wayward ways of his dramatic flair, "Do not remind me of my sorrows!"

"God…."

"For so long I have laid here!" he cried, muffling away my dragged out moan, my head tumbling down into cupped hands as I sighed out in exhaustion, forehead in hand, watching him act and cry through the strands of my damp hair, barely resisting the urge to just get up and punch him, "For so long I have been alone! For so long have I missed the gentleness of hands, the sweet whispers of love! For so long have I endured the burning silence, the memories of tender love, of passionate nights-"

_I'm going to punch him._

_I swear, I'm going to punch-_

"When was it last I had felt love? When was it last I had fallen asleep in someone's embrace? Why can I no longer remember the touch of one's hand? Why can't I remember the feel of lips, the heat of love-"

_I'm going to kill him._

_Before this day is done, I'm going to stab him through-_

"Of all my lovers lost, where are you now? Where do you hide? Where are you, fair Helena of the tattered rose? Do you lie among your sisters, among the trees or among the bones? Where are you, my dear Soddak? My brave and noble Soddak? My mortal warrior? Are you still the brave young man that I loved and cherished, or do you bones now lie forgotten in the soil? What becomes of you, my dear Soddak? Where do you hide?"

_That's it._

_That is absolutely it-_

"For so long I have sat here, alone and forgotten! For so long I have moaned in sorrow! Where are the sweet touches? Where are the loving glances? For so long I have lived among rock! For so long I have not felt the warmth of another creature! For so long I have not tasted the precious ecstasy, the thrill of our sweet embraces, long into the night-"

"ALL I ASKED IS IF YOU COULD TRAVEL BETWEEN WORLDS-"

"Well, of course I can. Why didn't you just ask?" with a snap, a thrilling, whirling snap, Balder sprang up from his lying slouch, golden curls laughing, his blue eyes springing back to life as he finally dropped the whole charade, the whole act, springing up into an upright position as his familiar, irksome smile crooked over his lips all over again. My yell resounded throughout the cave, bouncing off the golden smooth walls, screaming over the hiss of the river, each word echoing with the burning frustration; it was as if the man, the god had a switch in him, a multiple switch that often played between half-hearted seriousness and pure folly. His face faded back into its usual stance of sarcastic humour, leaping, flicking like a switch; it was quite a good acting performance, I must admit, his face, his act completely dropping on demand, in utter control. Golden curls framed the handsome dunes of his beaming face.

Sweat gleamed gold on his rolling chest.

Irritation gnawed like a sucking leech.

_This was insane._

_This was so very insane._

_I should just take the sword and leave._

_Take the sword, go down the stream and find my way out of here._

_I'll just return to the ships and lie about everything._

_I'll make up a story, and than fall asleep on my bed, releasing everything._

_I'll just escape this horrible nightmare, return to my brother and just forget everything that had just happened-_

Including Will.

A sigh rippled through my blood.

"Damn it."

Balder just quirked a playful eyebrow.

"Sorry?"

"I said damn it," I replied, staring over at him as I breathed in again, calming myself down, sighing softly, the fact, the lone, strong fact registering in my head all over again, as it should have from the very beginning:

Will.

_Will._

_I had to do this for Will._

"Damn it?"

"Yes, damn it," I nodded, gulping back saliva as the murky depths of my mind began to make clear all over again, a guilt, a burning, bitter guilt gnawing away at what was left of my heart, "Damn it, because of all the _men _in the world, I had to fall in love with him. Damn it, because of all the miseries and tortures of the world, he had to die. Damn it, because of all that was sane and right in this world, _you _are my only hope."

"Ah. Finally. An ulterior motive."

I barely heard him.

For a moment, for just a few seconds, I sat there, staring down at my fingers, at my healed fingers, mind churning over the familiar thought, the long forgotten thought; it seemed to long ago, so very long ago, the ships and seas, the blasting cannons, the spilling blood, the screams and cries, the falling fires, the billowing white sails-

_Will._

I could see him now, standing there, at the edge of the ship, of the flaming helm, bloody waves roaring far below, the red sun rising behind him, dark curls dancing in the crimson wind, red leaping about his face as he smiled, softly, sadly, caught away in the falling red wind, fire and ash raining like fallen stars, his eyes a beautiful gold beaming through the screaming red, the weeping red, my name whispering from his lips as the sun took him, the red took him, dark hair curling upward as he fell back towards the bloody waters, gold fading away forever-

_Will._

_My Will._

For a moment, the world fell silent, the world fell dead as I remembered that moment, that red dawn, the light leaving from his eyes as he disappeared forever, taken away by the sea; the memory had just came, pounding like a hammer, shattering the pane of glass, breaking it into a thousand pieces, stinging through my blood. My breath grew still as the image flashed in my mind again, the fires, the blood, the soft, sad smile-

No.

No.

Not even Balder's sword could heal that.

Not even Balder's sword could heal that pain.

No.

No.

_No._

_Will._

_My beautiful Will._

Something wet blobbed down onto my fingers and it took me awhile to realise that I was crying, fat tears blinking away from eyes, hot and burning against my skin. Jaw screwed tight as they ran in flashes, throat closed, chest hot, my heart wrecked and ruined all over again, shredded and claw, his smile, his eyes stuck on replay in my head, forever stuck, forever dead. A choke rose up in my throat as the memory hit me all over again, striking me hard, striking me deep, a punch, a stab, the tears trailing hot and fast, sorrow, agony ripping through my body, through the tattered ruins of my soul, all that was left of me, all that was sane slowly crumbling away as it finally began to sink in that-

That Will was dead.

That Will was gone.

That Will was dead and gone and that this was just a wild attempt, a desperate attempt at getting him back.

That this was just a mad attempt at getting back what never would return.

That this was just a fool's errand, a despondent at the very edge of its options.

That this was just a hope, a frail, pathetic, worthless hope.

That this was just me trying to hold on.

That this was just me refusing to let go.

That this was just me trying to say goodbye.

With a loud choke, I pressed a damp palm against my lips, pushing back the sobs as my other hand reached up to wipe away the tears, the hot tears, the agonized tears, trying to swallow back all the anger and grief and utter pain-

Balder's voice whispered like a dream.

"I get it now."

He was sitting there, upright for once, back straight and sleek, the wooden flute clenched tight in his hand, pressed down against the fair rock; golden curls framed a face that was now quiet, watching, a small smile dancing upon his lips as he gazed over at me through the shimmering curtain of his golden locks, straggly fair stringing down to kiss against his bare shoulders. Sweat gleamed golden off his naked chest, muscles purring as he heaved in and out, tasting the air, indulging in it, flaxen curls shivering against the sandy husk of his jaw. Blue eyes leaped away from the dusty sands, fiery and alive, watching curiously like a scientist watching its experiment, or a predator hunting its prey. Energy, wild and untamed, leaped about in those sapphire orbs.

His smile was like waning moon.

My lips were salty and wet.

"W-What?"

He didn't even blink.

"What you said. Earlier. You said that pain made you feel human."

I didn't know where I he was going with this, but through the fog of burning tears, the pain shredded, clawing, gnawing away at what was left of my soul, his face, his beautiful, dark eyes smiling at me one last time, taken away forever-

I had to clear my throat from the clawing pain.

"I….I d-don't-"

I could barely hear his voice.

"Pain makes you feel human because it makes you bleed. It makes you scream. It makes you stop and think, to feel awake and real-"

"No, you don't-"

"Pain makes you feel alive."

I couldn't speak.

For the briefest of moments, I just stared up at him, at his whispering curls, his bright blue eyes, his twisted smile, stomach clenching, gut turning, heart torn and broken, everything that ever made sense, that was ever good fading away, taken, engulfed, consumed, annihilated, devastated, destroyed-

_Will._

With a clear of my throat, I straightened my back and swiped at my tears, brushing away the hot crystals, dabbing at my eye, pulling myself up, pulling myself right, taking in a deep breath of the damp air as I pulled myself all together, back into place-

Because now was not the time for sorrow.

Now was not the time for agony.

_Will could be saved._

_Couldn't he?_

_I could get him back._

Tears dotted the black cotton like constellations.

Dark, pain-ridden constellations.

_Will could be saved._

_Couldn't he?_

_I could get him back._

Water hissed, low and soft, laughing.

Laughing and mocking.

_Will could be saved._

_Couldn't he?_

_I could get him back._

Blue eyes watched, dancing with energy and light.

And hope.

_Will could be saved._

_Couldn't he?_

_I will get him back._

_I will._

With another loud cough, I rubbed aside the last of the tears, brushing away the hot streaks, the burning ache, the roiling pain stuck deep in my being-

And spoke.

"What happened to you, 4000 years ago?"

A blonde eyebrow crooked high up a flawless dark forehead.

"Changing the topic, eh?"

My voice still sounded strained.

Raspy.

_Will._

"I want to know."

For another second or so, Balder just stared at me, eyebrow crooked, lips smiling gently, studying me, analysing me, thoughts flying hidden beneath his crown of golden curls, blue eyes dancing bright and eager, watching with a burning anticipation. Silence drummed as he stared and stared, calculating away in the silence of his mind-

And then, he sighed.

With the roll of golden muscles, Balder heaved out a long, thick sigh and shifted slightly, rolling his head down to stare at the wooden flute in his fingers, playing it among the slim tanned of his fingers. Shoulder slumped as he stretched out his legs, pulled in utter laziness, golden curls showering across his eyes like a veil, thick and pure, bright and alive. His breath trailed sweet in the little golden cave.

Water hissed like a river of snakes.

I swallowed back all the pain.

All the tearing, gnawing pain.

_Hold it, Joey._

_Just hold it._

_Swallow it back and contain it all over again._

_Tears are not going to help now._

_They never will._

_Take it in._

_Take it all the way in…._

_Just hold on._

My hand kept rubbing away the tears.

Balder spoke like a dream.

"I suppose, than, if that would make you feel better."

My throat was so very raw.

"It would."

Blue eyes trailed up to me again, bright and dancing.

Alive.

_Just hold on._

Golden curls shivered like winter's fair.

"Well than," Balder heaved out a thick breath as he stretched and in a loud boom, clapped his hands together, flute in between, staring up at me again, blue eyes bright, grin whiplashing across his face, beaming pale through the last of my tears, my body holding up, choking up anything left, anything left behind, my throat swallowing back the tears, the blood, the pain as I stared up into those irksome eyes again, that devilish smile, "Guess should begin with my little universal hiking trip."

Somehow, his familiar springing joy seemed comforting now.

I nodded numbly.

"Universal hiking trip?"

His smile cracked, toothy and white.

I could barely breathe.

"It was summer, you know," he had danced right into the story, grinning like an idiot all over again, gazing over at me with a child-like keenness in his eyes, bright and beautiful, my own throat clearing as I dusted away all the pain, all the jagged, thorny pain, keeping it for another day, another time as I stared once more at the god before me, forcing myself to listen to every word, "A great summer, about 4000 years ago. Beautiful summer! One of the best of the century, I reckon; not too hot, not too cold. Perfect weather, every single day! It was a great time too, no doubt of it. A brilliant time, a fascinating time; you humans were finally beginning to get control of things, to spread more and more, leaping like wildfire, fast and furious. The nymphs were wild too, populace and strong, the fairies and witches and daemons; we gods were always there, of course, but our worship had only really started to grow, the people beginning to look at us as more than just greater beings. Some of my brothers and sisters spent lesser time among them, and in return, they started worshiping us more, prayers and all. Statues, temples…. all that lot started to get built up, all in our honour. Quite flattering at times, I assure you. Quite flattering indeed. Great ego boost, you humans proved to me."

I bit my lower lip.

_Just hold on._

My voice was breathy whisper.

"Go on."

He smiled even wider.

"Ah. Go on. Yes. Good idea. You see, I'm only just beginning. You should have seen the world 4000 years ago, Joey. Aye, you should have seen it! The Void forbid how beautiful it was! How fresh it stays in my mind! What a wonderful summer that was! There were so many things happening, so much movements, so much gossip! You lot were finally getting the quirk of farming, to settle down, colonize, stop migrating like a bunch of beast…. though I must say your little tribal wars were really getting on my nerves, especially since Vulcan had that annoying need to meddle in it all. I don't know why. He just did.

Back than, of course Joey, your ancestors were little more than nomads, finally beginning to pull themselves together, to settle down, to grow. By than, your species had completely evolved, but you were all still a somewhat uncivilized lot, always fighting, always killing. I don't think that will ever change, but you should have _seen _your ancestors, Joey! You should have seen them! The Egyptians and Sumerians were probably the better of the lot; I didn't blend in easily with them, but they always knew what I was, whenever I came to visit. They always knew I was a god. There were all these celebrations whenever one of us gods came about. Hah! Great celebrations! No one knew how to celebrate better than the early Egyptians! No one!

The other world, the immortal world, was very vibrant than, of course, the fairies always throwing some party now and again; The Void knows how I much loved those parties! All the wine! All the music! All the rampage dances and sweet love affairs among the coral beaches….a party, you would say Joey. A great big party, all across the world, around every corner. The world of magic was wild indeed! So wild, so alive….wonders why I ever wanted to leave in the first place…"

My brow ached when I crinkled them.

"Leave?"

His blue eyes beamed like a pair of brilliant blue stars.

"What?"

My throat was so very sore.

"What do you mean by leave?"

His grin was like crack of lightning.

"Leave…well, I mean, leave. Leave, as in every sense of the word. Is there another meaning to that word now? It _has _been a rather long time…tell me. What does 'leave' mean now? Hmm? What does it mean? 'Leave'…. like leaf? It's pretty much the same pronunciation…did you make the spelling the same as well? Or does it mean something else now? Something like…like a hat. Yes! A hat! A leave hat! Well, yes…yes…a leave hat…. sounds quite nice, doesn't it? Easy to use in a sentence, that's for sure: ' don't worry, I'll just be getting my leave hat-"

I stifled back a sniffle.

"No, you idiot," I shook my head, wiping away the last of the hot tears, biting down on my tongue, my throat still tight and store, choking back the tears, the writhing pain, irritation slowly creeping in all over again, "Where did you go to? That summer, about 4000 years ago? Why did you leave?"

A blue eye winked with a cheeky flutter of dark lashes.

"Not very nice calling me an idiot, eh?"

_Yep._

_Irritation definitely creeping back in._

My eyes were still quite sore.

"Well, I'm not very nice."

"Figures."

"Where did you go?"

"To your universe, of course."

For a moment, I just stared.

Just stared.

And then, pushing back the pain and tears completely back, engulfing it away, hiding it in the dark, I sat forward on my seat, staring intently at the god before me.

After all, here was something.

Something that important.

Something related to me.

_Finally._

My heart unclenched slightly.

"My universe?" I asked softly, whispering, staring up at his bright, keen eyes, at his handsome, jovial face, golden curls shivering along his large face, dancing with the dusky shadows, lips curled away, smirking for his life, my hands clutching tight against the rock, stomach still rolling sick, "My world?"

A part of me, somewhere deep inside, still wanted to die.

_A great, big hidden part of me._

Water laughed its skipping tune.

"Aye. Your home."

I bit my lip.

"Was it your alternate reality than? Did it belong to you?"

For a moment, Balder just stared, his blonde eyebrows arching together to form a curious look about his face, smile faltering for just a brief second. Heart squeezed and throat rasped but-

But I had to ignore that now.

I had to ignore this.

_Just hold on._

Balder's voice came out in a slightly comical manner.

"Noooooooooo," he dragged, slowly shaking his head, golden curls laughing, his perfect face slightly screwed up in faint confusion, smile dropping into a perfect little 'o', "Don't be silly, silly. Why would _I _have an alternate reality?"

"Don't you?"

"I told you already. Only you little minions have alternate realities, millions and millions of versions of yourself. Us gods don't. There is only one set of us, one council of gods, one amazing Balder. Only the highly intelligible creations have alternate realities."

"So you're saying you're not highly intelligible?"

Now, it was back to that grin.

"Oh…. you're smart."

For some reason, I couldn't help but smile in return.

"You have no idea."

For a moment, we both just sat there, smiling at each other, his a whipping of bright, brilliant white, mine a crook, a sarcastic smirk-

But it felt weird.

Smiling.

Smiling felt weird.

I don't know how.

I don't know why.

The curling of lips, the outspoken amusement somehow felt… _strange_…. _foreign_….as if I hadn't smiled in a while-

_Hadn't I?_

_When was the last time I had smiled?_

_Before Circe's death?_

_Before Will's death?_

_Before Jared's death?_

_Before the pirate war?_

_Before…._

_When?_

_When was the last I had smiled?_

Just like that, the smile dropped from my lips and I was staring down at my fingers again, pondering over the clean skin, curls licking damp and cold. Water giggled like that of a child, singing a soft, sweet lullaby.

Balder didn't say a word.

My heart still ached.

_Damn this._

"Whose alternate reality was it than?" I continued again, gulping back, pushing back as I raised my eyes once more to stare up at those mysteriously young blue eyes, resting my elbows on my lap and drawing my fingers up to my face, bending them over my lip, shading them, hiding them, fair curls licking in the frail light like the finest strands of gold. The medicine man's eye whispered against the side of my cheek.

My right thumb slowly grazed along the flat bone.

Balder's eyes were like blue fires.

_Brilliant, never-ending blue fires._

_Supernatural fires._

His 'r's rolled completely out of control.

"I already told you. I don't know. I lost count. I don't care. Sometimes, when I was bored, I used to travel between the worlds, hiking, hoping from universe to universe, not really caring whom it belonged to. It didn't matter. Just as long as I could get some fun."

"Fun?"

"You know. Parties. Ale. Sex. The usual."

Water hissed, calling up the golden roof.

Black stalactites stabbed down in dark daggers.

My voice was still somewhat sore.

"You couldn't get any of that here?"

Balder's eyes beamed with brimming life.

"It's not with whom that matters, but where," He said simply enough, smiling over at me, grinning like an idiot, golden curls laughing as he fiddled the slim flute between his clever dark fingers, "It's always to do with the where. Would you want to get married in an old pub, Joey? How 'bout a deck? Market? Ginger poppin' brothels? See? Don't you see? It doesn't matter with whom. All that matters is _where._"

"Of course. Because when I marry someone, I am more concerned with the wedding location than who I am actually marrying."

"Perfect! What else would matter?"

I was sighing again.

With a low, soft drag, I sighed and reached up to slick my fingers through my hair, pushing back the damp curls, running through the mess. Shoulders slumped as I kept my elbows on my lap, to lazy to raise them up, to lazy to do anything. I just sat there, brushing back my dank hair, pushing the curls away from my eyes, strands stuck together by something sticky, something dry.

Blood, if my luck would have it.

Dirty boots grinded deep into golden dust.

My heart still burned.

_Will._

I closed my eyes.

"Just tell me what happened than," I sighed, stretching the kinks out of my neck as fingers trailed through the edges of my matted damp hair, eyes fluttering open, still sore, still tender from all those tears, "That summer…you went away to another universe-"

"Aye. I did," his smile was getting annoying again, "Thoth's fault, really. All his ruddy fault! You see, Joey, there was this fine little nymph, water nymph, all curves and brains, pretty dark hair, lovely dark skin and all. Lovely thing. Beautiful! Men used to sing songs in her honour; you should have seen her! Her dark, _dark _hair! She lived on the outskirts of a little hunting village down in the south, in a clear lake, and was constantly bewitching the young humans down there. Always bewitching! She liked her men human, you see, liked her men weaker than her. There were plenty of nymphs to go around, but this one…. well…. this one was addictive. Special. The finest prize."

Fingers trailed back to my lap.

"So?"

Blue eyes beamed like stars.

"So? So? Thoth liked her too! Smart, weak little Thoth. Thoth and his words. Thoth and his bloody wisdom. He was my brother but when it came to women, there are really no rules about it. Each god to himself. Being older, he contested to the rest of my siblings, laid his claim and before I knew it, before I could even breath, the coward had laid his claim over her! Over that beautiful nymph! I was the god of beauty, of peace and music and joy, but _he _tricked me! He moved so quickly, so very fast, and laid stake over that dark rippling hair-"

"What was her name?"

"No idea. But that's not the point, silly! The point was that he fooled me, that he won over me. He pushed me aside, stepped forward, as if I was nothing. Me! Balder! The others had nothing to say about it….said I wasn't smart enough, that Thoth had beaten me fair and square…but you should have seen her, Joey! You should have! She was beautiful, wondrous, in every sense of the word! She was not fit for Thoth! She never was! I was the god of beauty, and he of wisdom…where was the sense in that?"

My eyes were still sore.

"Pity."

"Great pity," he bobbed his head furiously, nodding away, golden curls bouncing, his lips reacting animatedly to each sentence, to each underlying emotion, acting as if the whole ordeal had happened only yesterday, and not over 4000 years ago, "Tragic, at times. For a while, I stayed at Feltara, sulking away, upset to the bone…and why shouldn't I be? I was tricked! Again! I would stare out my window, thinking about Thoth and that beautiful creature, about my own dumb luck….it was a boring time, really. A sad time. A sad, sad time. A sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, sad-"

"Sad time."

"Very sad."

My lungs were still somewhat tight.

My throat was still raw.

"What about the universal hiking?"

"Well, that came along when I realised that it was summer."

My lungs were still somewhat tight.

"Summer?"

"Yes. Summer. I loved summer. I _love _summer. Beautiful time, really. Beautiful. Most people enjoy spring, but I always liked summer. Always liked the heat. Spring can be too colourful, too sweet…. but the summer nights were always perfectly warm, perfectly dark. The moon was always brightest, the wind always warm, and when the summer storms pull in, the world rained warm and beautiful, like something out of a song. Summer was always my favourite time. My best time. So, you see Joey, despite the horrible humiliation and disappointing lost to that weakling, I wasn't about to spend a summer caged away at home, doing nothing. True, few months is nothing to me, mere minutes in eternal life…but I _liked _summer. I wasn't going to waste it. No, I wasn't in the mood to be bored. With or without a pretty nymph."

There was something in this that sounded like me.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring up at those eager blue eyes, remembering all the summers I had, spending every minute outdoors, making plans, elaborate, terrific plans, not wanting to waste a single moment of the beautiful summer wind-

Yes.

I too liked summer.

Hell.

I loved summer.

I loved-

_Do I still?_

_Do I still love summer? _

_It's been so long…._

_Do I still love summer?_

Balder's accented, firm but eager voice crashed away any possibility to question anything anymore.

"So, I came to the sensible conclusion," he carried on, beaming like the idiot he was, blue eyes bright, curls giggling, chucking, muscles purring as his naked chest heaved in and out with each breath, bare feet lying cold upon the sands, "I decided to take a break. A holiday, if you will. Went universal hiking, hopping about from place to place until, in the spur of the moment, I landed in your world-"

Something itched at the back of my throat.

"What was so special about my world?"

His blue eyes flashed like burning sapphires.

"Nothing, really. Same old, same old. Same as all the other realities. The first view I got of your little home, however, was quite irresistible."

"What do you mean?"

With a sigh of bliss, of whimsical bliss, Balder rolled his shoulders and tilted his head slightly upward, grinning up the ceiling, bright blue eyes glazing over, fogging, the clear crystal dashed away with mist as his mischievous smirk twisted away into a dreamy smile, lost away once more, wistful, far away, a pale of memories taking him in, all over again. Blue eyes fluttered shut as he smiled gently, remembering a time, a place, his handsome face gleaming with the pale fair, the pale beauty of bliss, of peace, caught away in a completely different world. Shoulder relaxed, each breath soft and sweet, the smile singing of a happier time, of a peaceful time. Flute twirled in his pretty fingers, dancing a ballad of old.

Curls whispered a long-forgotten dream.

"Aine."

He sounded so very far away.

"What?"

My voice somehow sounded loud in the silence of the golden cave.

His smile was a daydream.

"Not what, who," he said simply enough, eyes still closed up at the ceiling, bare chest heaving with each slow, deep breath, the small smile stretching across his face, a strange glowing through his sandy skin, golden curls laughing a sweet, sweet memory, "She was a who. A sweet who. My sweet Aine."

_My sweet Aine?_

For a moment, I just stared at him, at his sudden change in demeanour, puzzling over his glowing face, his shut eyes, his blissful smile as if dreaming a sweet tale, asleep, silent, golden locks kissing against his handsome jaw, against his curving smile; it was weird, seeing him like this, all pretty and quiet and not talking at all. His mouth was now shut, not jabbing out some nonsense but quiet, glued together, tilted away in a happy, a lopsided smile, dark lashes kissing against the high dunes of his cheeks. Breath rang sweet and pure.

Silent.

Silent.

_Silent?_

_Seriously?_

My heart still ached.

With a soft clearing of my throat, I spoke softly, staring curiously at his transformed face, at his calm, benevolent, beautiful face.

_Seriously?_

"Who's Aine?"

His voice was still a dream.

"A sweet summer's love."

The medicine man's eye giggled.

"Great."

"She was a farmer's daughter," his voice was still quiet but he finally opened his eyes, foggy, unclear blue eyes trailing down from the ceiling back to me, a silly, wistful smile about his peaceful face, golden curls singing a windy, soft tune, "As were many maidens at that time, up there in the north. She was from your world, of course, a young girl living about 300 years earlier than my own world, in a completely different time pattern."

Blue eyes lost themselves in the fog of memories.

Beautiful, calm memories.

My heart squeezed tight.

"What do you mean?"

"That was a good summer, Joey, a great summer," he smiled, so soft, so very pretty, a little inch of sadness, remembering a time, a place somewhere deep in the pale fogs of his mind, golden curls shivering with each, aching heartbeat, so very quiet, so very silent, "A beautiful summer. She was so innocent and sweet, that lovely Aine. My lovely Aine. Those were fair summer nights indeed."

His smile was so very gentle.

Something told me to lower my voice.

"What was she like?" I asked softly, gently, my own problems and sorrows forgotten as I gazed at this gentle reminder of Balder, this pretty, soft face, staring far away through me, living a memory, a ghost of a memory, "This…Aine."

Water hummed.

He shrugged a broad, massive naked shoulder.

"Pretty," he nodded, staring straight, straight through me, the smile so strange, so weird, so very beautiful, "Very pretty. Delicate little thing, really. Fragile, innocent, big green eyes, bright and sweet like a doe's. She had this dark hair too, this inky dark hair, long and beautiful, coarse from the wind but perfect for her, curls falling everywhere. Not ideally pretty, not like my sisters but-"

"But pretty enough?"

"Pretty enough to tame me."

Somehow, a smile slipped onto my own lips.

"You liked her."

A nod of curls, a far away smile.

"Oh yes. Definitely. There was little not to like. Aine belonged to one of those little villages among the fountains, those farming villages up near the cold cliffs, not to far from the beach. A pretty beach, I must add. Very pretty. Like her. Very pretty. I had hopped into your world not from her little village, and I had bumped into her on her way back from plucking berries. Nearly scared her half to death."

I had no idea where the smile had come from.

"So you stayed."

His blue eyes smiled a song.

"For a little bit, a little while," he smiled softly, his accented voice rolling quietly above the whisper of the creek, golden curls giggling against his smooth skin, blue eyes staring through me with the fog of dreams, the mist of better times, "She was pretty. Did I say that? Did I mention that? Very pretty, very delicate, like a the petal of a lily, frail and beautiful. Her skin was so pale, so very pale, creamy white and so stark against the dark of her hair, her lips so sweet and pure….it was so easy to charm her in, you know. To seduce her. The other women before tended to be prouder, nobler, fiercer, while the men were always tough and strong and ridiculously beautiful, but Aine…. Aine was just…just-"

"Pretty?"

"Very."

"How long did you stay? With her, I mean? In my universe?"

"Not too long," he smiled sweetly, like a soft, pretty tune, curls brimming gold, voice sweet and pure, trailing in a enchanting whisper, quiet and free….

And than, just like that, in the hanging silence of the golden grotto, something flickered in Balder's dreamy, lost blue eyes, shivering like a bud in a sudden wind-

And than something dark stormed his eyes, racing across the misty crystal, dark and wild, shredding through the deep blue, screaming its lament. Eyebrows dropped down, hanging dark as a storm suddenly raged across the azure orbs, engulfing the mist, consuming it, taking control and seizing command. The glow in his face fell away, crumbling like ash as his smile, his sweet, pretty smile wiped forever, dropping into a thick frown, darkness marching, arms-a-ready. Golden curls flicked upright, muscles suddenly springing to life, pulling straight, pulling tight, a cold, dark hardness tearing across his handsome face, instantly aging him. Steel clawed across his perfect features, engulfing his sweet pale glow, his joy, his bliss, his peaceful glee like a black storm across the perfect day, tearing away everything that had been there only a few moments ago. Blue eyes iced away, hardened to rock, to steel, black and stormy, wild and dark. Fingers clenched over the silent flute.

Jaw tightened.

_What?_

My own smile dissipated like the wind.

My chest froze.

My heart stopped.

Balder's voice was low.

"They didn't let me stay."

I could barely breathe.

For a moment, I just sat there, holding my breath, staring at the remarkable transformation, at his silent chest, his silent face, jaw tight, eyes hard, lips pulled taut and silent, something dark, gloomy, so very black shrouding across his features, pulling him in. Blue eyes raged a storm, a horrific, turning storm, blue and black fighting, clashing, a combat of such brutality, an atrocious evil screaming away in the depths of his soul. Golden curls froze, hanging silent, hanging dead.

It was as if he was no longer breathing.

I gulped.

_Just hold on._

"Who?"

His voice was dead.

"My family."

My throat was very sore.

_What?_

"W-What?"

Blue raged with dark storms.

Black storms.

_Great._

I could barely recognise his voice.

"I never saw it coming," he said simply enough, cryptically, voice calm, voice dead, voice completely devoid of any emotion or life, his face silent and hard, a hollow shell of what he been but a few minutes ago, golden curls ringing silent along his hard jaw, his calm face. Nothing flickered in his face, no words, no feelings, no life-

Except his eyes.

Only his eyes screamed.

_Screamed._

I cleared my throat.

"Saw it coming?" it sounded more like a squeak than anything as I, for some reason, wrapped my arms in front of me, hugging them to my body, clutching at my arms, begging, seeking for some warmth to chill away the cold in his face, the blizzard in his eyes, biting down on my tongue with each stalling breath, "Saw what coming?"

He barely moved his lips.

"Betrayal."

I couldn't breathe.

_Damn it._

_Fucking damn it._

_Betrayal?_

_What the hell have I gotten myself into now?_

_What the hell is wrong with him now?_

_What the fuck is going on?_

I bit on my tongue even more.

"Betrayal?" I murmured, swallowing, staring straight at him, trying to get back his attention, to get him to see me again, blue screaming and tearing, dark and swirling, his face so very calm, so very silent like the eye of a storm, my feet shuffling in the golden dust as nails bit down through the torn cotton, heart clenching tight, "Like they ratted on you or something? They gave Thoth that pretty nymph?"

I don't think he was breathing at all.

"No."

Dust whispered.

Water hissed.

Heart screamed.

_Damn it._

For a few seconds, I sat in the silence, staring up at him, at his dark eyes, his horrid eyes, gulping back as he just sat there, silent, still, his entire body frozen away as if chiselled into rock, mute, cold, hard and dead. Golden locks hung silent, dead and still, hushed, soundless against the cold, blank face, the dead face. Fingers clenched white over the wooden flute.

Blue eyes screamed in torment.

_Fucking damn it._

With a low sigh, I closed my eyes and than opened them up to the man again, to the silent, still god, nails biting deep, throat clearing through as I breathed out my next question, boots shifting quietly. Water gurgled behind, running thick and true.

Gold curls hung dead.

I sighed.

"What happened, than? What did they do? How did your family betray you?"

He didn't answer.

For a moment, the golden cave was filled with the sound of the rushing stream, humming through the thick air, loud and clear in the deep silence, breath hushed, body still. Golden curls fell noiseless, lips pulled tight. Black stalactites hung, cold and dead. Hearts froze.

The world held it's breath.

"They killed me."

**And BOOM! Another chapter done! Ok…so I said earlier that there would be only two more chapters. Well, sorry. Change of plans. There is going to be one more full chapter, and than an epilogue. Anyhow, will end soon, before April is up! Possibly, if I work quickly, I should get the next chapter done by this weekend. Epilogue will only take me a day or so.**

**So, actually, by next week…**

**Anyhow, thanks for all your reviews, guys! Really, really adore them! Please let me know how you feel about fic, and maybe, what you would like to see in the sequel! I would love to hear from you. Until next time!**

**XOXO**


	56. The Requiem Of A God

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**Ok. So here's the thing. If you guys probably know, I am very long winded. It is my fatal flaw, I know. I'm working on it. However, if you guys don't like what you're reading, than DON'T READ. I understand that catering to the readers is very important…however, if you can't stand my writing style, than DON'T READ. I write for myself, believe it or not. Yes, I get that I'm long winded. Yes, I may describe too much.**

**But that IS my writing style, and I am not going to change completely so as to cater to a few random people. I am a descriptive writer. Somewhat artistic. To me, emotions and settings are as equally important as the story plot. I'm still an amateur writer, so I am still learning. Nevertheless, I am not going to change my writing style to fit a few people. I'm sorry, but I'm not.**

**Furthermore, as for Joey's character…well…she is as she is, and I'm not going to change her in any way. She is not mature. AT ALL. Will's death, however, is going to change her, as you will see in the sequel. This will make her grow up. A little. Often enough, I write things in the author's note, and than change my mind. So, please, bear with me. **

**Lastly, for the rest of you guys out there, please don't take this as an insult to anyone. I'm merely addressing a review given to me. I adore you guys, so please, if you can **_**stand**_** my writing, please read on and enjoy. If you can't, however, go ahead and close the page. I believe I can handle the consequences.**

**Again, I don't mean to offend anyone.**

**So please, enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 53: The Requiem Of A God**

For a second, for a still, silent second, I froze, staring, waiting, waiting for him to laugh, to burst out in furious giggles, to see his familiar cheeky grin tear across his skin, shredding through his act, light gleaming from his face again. I waited for those flashing dimples, those chuckling curls, those brilliant blue eyes igniting with a glowing flame, joy and youth prancing about in the endless depths…

But there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He just sat there, hands clutched against the rock, the flute caught between in his right, knuckles pale, veins blue, chest still and silent, not a single breath. Broad shoulders splayed wide and firm, tensed, rolling golden, fair curls kissing against them, forever silent. Locks of pure gold trickled down, hanging cold, hanging dead, still and frozen against his shoulders, his neck, his dusky strong jaw. Stubbles of black stuck out against the sands of his skin, like patches of paint, jaw hard and cold, clenched tight, wound shut. Up above, amidst the fray of cold, dead curls, his face was silent, so very silent, calm and blank, devoid of emotions, muscles firm and still, as if a painting forever frozen in place. Blue eyes screamed, torturous and wild; his face was calm, quiet, cold, but his eyes were on fire, a dark, evil fire consuming the quick blue, azure swirling with black smoke. Storms raged, waves crashed and in the soft golden glow of the small cave, Balder's eyes glowed a furious blue, a horrid blue, anger, despair and pure violence trashing against the metal cage, screaming in agony. Wails of a ruined soul moaned through the deep blue.

His lips were silent.

Absolutely silent.

_Oh God._

For a moment, the cave filled with the sweet sound of hissing water as I stared in silence, up at him, through his curls, at his eyes, waiting for a reaction, for a burst of laughter, nails biting into my arms, shivering without reason-

But than again, I had all the reason to shiver.

Every reason.

Especially after what he had just said.

Pronounced.

Admitted.

_Declared._

_Oh god._

My tongue was so dry.

"W-What?"

His voice was like ice.

"They killed me," He said so simply, so very simply, as if it was nothing more than a fact, a simple, day-to-day fact, calm, quiet, cold, his accent rolling smoothly, blue eyes screamed with twisting black fires, with burning darkness while his face kept absolutely still, like a sculpture, frozen in time, "My family, my brothers and sisters. They murdered me."

Each word was like slap to the face.

A cold, harsh slap.

_Murdered me._

_Murder._

_Oh God._

_Oh fucking God._

I couldn't breathe.

Not a breath.

Still I waited, clutching my arms, shivering, tremoring, staring into dark, stormy eyes that did not see me, still waiting for a laugh, for a playful smile, for all of this to fall away into some twisted sense of joke at a really inappropriate time-

But there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Silence screamed as blue eyes wailed and moaned, black storms raging through the deep blue, golden curls frozen, shrouding a silent, dark face, a calm, cold face, nothing moving, nothing stirring, time itself seeming to have frozen away, to have paused, stopped altogether in the little golden cave…

Water sang its soft, sad tune.

My heart froze.

_Oh God._

_It's a dream._

_A twisted, sadistic dream._

_An unreal dream._

_After all, how can it be possible?_

_How can I be hearing those things from his lips?_

_How can this be real?_

_How can Balder have been killed by his family?_

_His brothers and sisters?_

_Other gods?_

_How was that possible?_

_Who would even do that?_

_I mean, sure, I hated Jared at times…._

_But I would never want to kill him._

_Not even what had happened to Will._

_No._

_Not even than._

_I wouldn't kill him._

_I wouldn't even try._

_How was this real, than?_

_How could have Balder been killed by his family?_

_How?_

_But more importantly…._

_Why?_

_Why?_

My voice croaked out, before I could even stop it.

"You're joking right?" it sounded so loud in the silence, in the glowing, dank silence, water rushing like a song, torn, screaming eyes staring right through me, far away, caught up in the onslaught of a far away storm, of a raging battle somewhere else, his body completely and utterly still, "This is a joke?"

Golden curls hung dead.

"I'm serious."

Nails bit into skin.

"No, you're not. You can't be. You're telling me that your family killed you-"

"Yes."

"You're lying-"

"They had to," it was as if he wasn't even there anymore, not really, not now, a hollow shell of a god, cold, hard, eyes caught away in some wild battle, black raging across blue, storming the fortress, my heart frozen solid, holding its breath, "It was required."

Water hissed.

Stalactites hung.

I shivered.

"What was required?"

I could barely him.

"My death."

Silence screamed.

Another few moments past as I gave him another chance to give the gig up, to flash a smile, to grin cheekily and confess to wanting to see a terrified look upon my face, to toss back his golden curls and crazy on with a more humours narrative-

But there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

_Oh God._

My voice was a whisper.

"Liar."

Water laughed.

"Not this time."

_Not this time._

_Not this time._

_Jesus._

_God._

_Could it be?_

_Could it really be?_

_I've heard of stories, but people killing their siblings, their children…._

_But Gods?_

_Were Gods as insane as us?_

_As cruel?_

_As barbaric?_

_As evil?_

_Why would the gods kill one of their own? _

_Their own brother?_

_Their own flesh and blood?_

_How was this real?_

_How was this even possible?_

_How?_

_How?_

_Why?_

I cleared my throat.

"What happened?"

It was than that he finally saw me.

With a slow, tired blink, Balder fluttered his dark eyelashes and than, just like that, he was no longer looking through me but right at me, reaching my eyes, staring into my eyes. I was no longer invisible, no longer hidden from him, my body no longer transparent for him to gaze right through, to see far away, caught up in another world; a blink, and he saw me again, blue eyes raging wild, raging hot, face cold as ice, still as night, storms of black tearing through the cerulean deep-

And somehow, it didn't make me feel a lick better.

A shiver crept up my spine.

_Why?_

"Balder?"

His golden brow crinkled as he squeezed his eyes shut, as if wincing back a headache, fair locks shivering as his body finally body, his face unfrozen, his entire being as if released from the spell, from the enchantment, muscles purring back to life, waking from their icy slumber; in the soft hiss of the rushing brook, Balder began to move again, stretching away the kinks. Golden curls snapped softly against dusky jaw.

A hand trailed up to massage at his brow.

Eyes squeezed shut.

I gulped.

"Balder?"

His voice was hesitant.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice no longer cold, no longer calm, an etching weariness tearing through his voice as he massaged his forehead with two slim fingers, face twisted in a slight scowl, riding over what seemed to be a bad headache, the blue tormented eyes hidden away, closed off for now, "Sometimes…sometimes-"

"It's ok-"

"No, it's not," with a grimace, he pulled away his hand and with a tired blink, opened his eyes, revealing those blue eyes, those piercing blue eyes, bright and-

And still storming with black fires.

Burning, blazing hot fires.

A black storm.

_Great._

For a moment, I just sat there, giving him a second to stretch his muscles, to rub his neck, to let his lips work again back down into a little scowl, his face no longer passive but disturbed, troubled, staring over at me with a small frown, blue eyes blazing the torrid, endless storm. Golden curls swished back into motion, licking against his wide shoulders, the flute once more dancing among the clever fingers, its design gleaming bright silver. Sighs, low, soft sighs echoed throughout the golden cavern along with the tune of the stream, chest gleaming gold with every breath.

Yes.

He was breathing again.

_Great._

Blue eyes raged a brutal storm.

A fatal storm.

_Just great._

It took him a bit before he was finally speaking again.

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he breathed in the dank air, staring straight at me, right at me, golden locks laughing about his scowling face as his chest heaved along with each slow breath, blue eyes raging, screaming and tearing, my own nails biting endless into my healed skin, "When I get angry…. when I remember-"

My own voice was still frozen in a whisper.

"That they killed you?"

The scowl faded back a little.

"You would think that 4000 years of solitude would give me ample time to come with terms with what they did."

I could barely hear myself.

"You said they killed you. Your own family. How could anyone come to terms with that?"

It was than that he smiled.

With a blaze of storming, violent blue eyes, Balder's frowning lips suddenly quirked up to tear away into a new, flashing smile, a sudden humour, a crescendo. Dimples flashed all over again, and there, just for a moment, it was as when I had first met him, shivering golden curls, broad, bare chest, cheeky, witty smile gleaming like the moon, beaming across his face, lighting it up. Flute danced among the loosened fingers, like a ballerina spun by a puppeteer, the golden curls snapping back to life, laughing away. Shoulders slumped in released tension.

The tempest still screamed in his eyes.

An unholy tempest.

_Somehow, it's scarier this way._

A humour seemed to have danced back into his voice.

"I suppose not," he smiled, beaming like the famous cat of a famous fairytale, flaxen locks giggling, his handsome face once more young, once more alive his eyes blazing another story altogether, an uncontrollable rage, a blizzard, a squall, blue and black in an endless battle, "Than again, it _has _been 4000 years…. besides, it wasn't as if they had much of a choice."

"What do you mean?"

Blue eyes stabbed fires.

For another long moment, Balder just froze, smile painted in place, his handsome face gleaming with the glow of his playful smile, teeth like pearls, dimples small and cute, his entire face cheeky and contented while his eyes above played a different game, screaming with rage and anger, a black storm tearing across the deep blue, shredding it away, engulfing it, the laments of his darkest souls screaming in terror and in pure agony-

And then, with a tired moan, he reached upwards and stretched his arms up in the air, arching his back, a strangled sort of purr tearing from his throat as if he was some sort of cat, his naked torso relaxing away, pulling in complete laziness. Stormy, horrid blue eyes blinked back, rolling with the ecstasy of a good stretch, flute playing among the stretching fingers, his body humming in a long drawl, so very long that I almost wanted to stretch along with him-

His voice came out in a lazy drone.

"My sister Neauth," he hummed, his body arching, rolling, muscles gleaming, his arms slowly pulling back down as he finally finished his stretch, creaming into place, golden curls sighing contently as he opened his eyes again, lips beaming but eyes screaming in torture, "She had a vision, you see."

It was as if his eyes could never hide the true laments of his soul.

Of his tattered, ruined soul.

_Yup._

_Definitely scarier._

I refused to stop hugging my arms.

"Who's she?"

A lazy sigh.

"A goddess," he said simply enough, the grin flashing bright, flashing eager, a lazy swagger melting across his features as he rolled his body back into place, legs stretching out still, voice reining in, his blue eyes screaming like a beast trapped away in a cage, hidden from the world unless you looked close enough, "Goddess of the winds, of the skies. Second in command to my oldest sister, Gaia, second oldest. A constant recluse, if you ask me."

Blue eyes screamed in torment.

I cleared my throat.

"Goddess of wind?"

His smile was the perfect lie.

"Aye. Her domain is the skies, the heavens. The wind is her lair."

It sounded weird.

Even to me.

Nails bit into skin.

"There's such thing as the goddess of wind?"

Water hissed.

"Well, of course there is! Why wouldn't there be? Huh? Why?" he was snapping back to his old self again, to his bubbly, talkative self, his tone beginning to swirl with humour again, dancing along with the swish of his lazy golden locks, smile becoming infectious, his beaming lips and cheeky dimples flashing as if nothing had happened at all, his entire being sinking lazily back into its normal routine except for those cold, stormy, violent eyes, "I'm the god of light and peace. She's the goddess of wind. Considered much more important than me, I can assure you. Emphasis on the _considered_. Doesn't mean she is. Well, was. Anyhow, what's this world to do without wind, eh? What?"

I just wanted to ignore those blue eyes.

"I suppose you couldn't sail a ship without her."

"No, you can't. You never will. Neauth's also the goddess of dreams and foresight, of all that cannot be touched by mortal hands. Spirit things, if you will. Yes. Spirit things. Things that are spirit. Spirit-like. Spirit-ty. A complete airhead, in my opinion."

"Airhead? Like you?"

"Nah. I may not be smart, but I have the energy of a thousand rabbits. A thousand hopping, bouncing, rabbits. Neauth just sorts of…. dreams away, you know? Lost in her little world. Never liked staying in one place, my sister. Never did. Always had to move about, to dance about, mingling here and there, hiding here and there, fast and invisible-"

"Like the wind?"

Bright teeth gleamed pearl below raging dark eyes.

"Aye. Exactly. Like the wind."

For a moment, I let his voice echo throughout the cave, staring at him silently, biting down on my lips as my nails dug deeper into my healed arms; he was coming back, slowly but surely, a lethargic laziness creeping about his body with each rolling golden muscles, fair curls singing, his beam flashing like a bright moon against the dark sands of his face. His usual demeanour of laugher, of joy, of silly merriment was creeping back, coming back, the swagger of pure laziness like a dash of salt to his handsome face, melting across his skin, languid, idle. His firm, accented voice rolled with a slight sluggishness, a slight sigh, as if somehow, in the mix of all the things, Balder was finally tired, finally lazy, ready to fall on his back again, to take a nice long nap.

As if he hadn't slept enough the past 4000 years.

Blue eyes screamed black.

Horrid, burning black.

_Keep it together, Joey._

I gulped.

"What did she do than? What did Neauth do? This goddess of the wind?"

His voice was not so lazy though.

"Well, she had a vision. A prophetic vision, actually," the chipper, the quirky, boundless energy definitely coming back, quickly taking over the lazy drawl and spreading his accent with that familiar tang, that familiar bounce, smile melting away into a sluggish grin, blue eyes flaming with that horrid tempest, "She could do that, you know. See the future. Like I said, dreams and foresight were her allies too."

It was as if the god had decided to squash three different emotions into his being; laziness in his body, keenness in his voice and fury in his soul.

The only thing I could feel was a pulling, gnawing dread.

_What is this?_

_What's going to happen?_

_What's he going to do?_

I did not want to look into those eyes.

"When was this?"

"About 4000 years ago?"

"You mean…. the same time they killed you?"

"It was her vision that caused my death."

He sounded happy.

_Too happy._

"But what did see she than?"

Water whispered a soft, sad tune.

Black stalactites hung like black, bloody daggers.

It didn't take him too long to answer.

"Only what my future would be."

"Which was?"

"That I would be bring about the end of the world."

There.

There it was.

Finally, after all the turn about, the dead ends and continuous ramblings, there it was, the truth, the knowledge, the words that had first captured my attention, the words I had been dying to hear all this time.

End of the world.

End of the world.

_Finally._

Blue eyes screamed a bloody storm.

I straightened my back.

"End of the world?"

His smile was _such_ a lie.

"Aye."

Hands unfolded themselves.

I sat up even straighter.

"But what did _you _have to do with the end of the world? It's because of you this whole damn multi-verse world actually existed in the first world."

Blue eyes raged with fury.

"Well, that's true-"

"So how can _you _have anything to do with the end of the world?"

"Technically, it's not, per say, the end of the world."

I raised an eyebrow.

He just kept smiling.

_Like an idiot._

_A true, bloody idiot._

Water hissed like a dream.

"What do you mean?"

"Meaning that it's not fires and brimstones….no, not that sort of deal. No. Not really. I don't think so, anyway….well, maybe, when it comes to it-"

"What the hell-"

"4000 years ago, when I was in your world, Joey, with Aine, enjoying those warm summer nights, Neauth had a vision," his voice was back to its old, annoying tune, that irritable joy, his smile sluggish, his face gleaming, his body slouching down in a lazy stretch as golden curls sighed against his cheeks, black clouds clawing through the deep blue orbs up above, "A dream, if you will, a view of the future. She was here, in our world, in this original timeline, up above in her drifty clouds, maybe in that silly little palace of hers…I don't know. She was in the sky. Somewhere. Who knows? The point is that she was up there, far away from me, from anyone when…well…when she had the vision."

A prickle was beginning to gnaw at the back of my neck.

A prickle of irritation.

Even my voice sounded slightly annoyed.

"Which was about what exactly?"

His eyes were like a nightmare.

"About me ending the reign of the gods."

This time, I froze.

For a brief moment, I just sat there, mouth hanging open, staring at his golden curls, his beaming smile, his dark, roaring eyes that was the only part of him that was not false, that was not an act, heart stopping dead in my chest as I waited and waited and waited….

And nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing.

He just sat there, grinning like an idiot he was, stretching like a cat.

_A cat._

_Yeah._

_A big, hairless, golden cat._

_Which would be the weirdest thing in the world if there were even such a thing-_

"You alive there?"

My throat began to feel dry all over again.

"You serious?"

His smile was such an act.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Really, really dry.

"Only a couple of reasons…one of which is that you're _mad_, which, by the way, is an assessment I should have come with the moment I met you-"

His chuckle came out like a rolling drum.

Blue eyes screamed.

"I'm not mad."

Water whispered.

"Really? You sure? Because you just told me that you are going to end the reign of the gods, _ergo_ your family, _ergo _you-"

"Well, I couldn't control what Neauth saw. I had nothing to do with it."

"So, you had nothing to do with your sister getting a vision of you killing your entire family-"

"I never said that the vision had me _kill _them…"

"Oh really? Than what exactly did Neauth see?"

There was a brief silence.

A very brief silence.

For a second or so, Balder kept his peace, grinning like a fool-

And then, like the snap of fingers, the smile fell away from his lips, his face, dissipating in the golden glow of the cave, disappearing forever. Lips pulled away as that bright joy, that childish, beaming smile so in contrast to his flaming eyes vanished away completely, wiped away, disappearing as if it had never been there in the first place. The seamless glow, the lazy smile evaporated, petering out like mist, dwindling away to absolutely nothing; there was nothing left but a stern pull of his lips, a calm, silent face, a blank façade all over again.

That creepy, terrifying façade.

Raging blue eyes fell right back into their element.

Muscles still sprawled in a lazy squall.

_Damn it._

With a long, low sigh, Balder tilted his head back, face up to the ceiling and with a long drawl, closed his fiery, tempest eyes, shutting away the gateways to his torturous soul, the golden curls moaning along his skin as his stretched back his neck, breaking a kink. Veins and muscles rolled, golden and perfect as he nodded back his head and stared up at the ceiling, at the hanging black stalactites, breathing up to the roof, to the golden rock. Hands clutched at the rock on either side of his thighs, flute caught in his right, each breath like a sweet whisper up to the hidden heavens. Arms rolled, perfect, flawless, creamy gold.

His sigh was long and weary.

Like a lover's whisper.

_Damn it._

His voice was still that same, lazy drawl.

"Something about me killing all the gods…I don't really know…."

I just stared.

"What?"

He rolled his head a little farther back, eyes still shut.

Golden curls sighed.

"It was seen by Neauth, and it has been written, that I will be the end of the gods. It is me that will bring about their deaths."

Water sang.

"You mean, Neauth saw that you will kill them? That you will kill the rest of the gods?"

"More like I will bring about their deaths."

"So…not kill them?"

"Exactly."

Silence.

Lazy, golden silence.

"You lost me."

With another tired sigh, Balder rolled back his head forward and with a flutter of dark eyelashes, he opened his eyes again, stretching his neck back in place, looking back at me, the golden curls swishing about in the pale light, kissing against his shoulders. His handsome face was etched with a lazy, languid spell.

His blue eyes were no longer stormy.

_No._

_Not anymore._

With a lazy blink and slow fluttering of dark lashes, blue eyes stared back at me with an unfamiliar dance of weariness, of plain tiredness; gone were the black storms, the wailing winds, the dark flames. There were no more screaming, no more wailing, no more caged beast crying and begging, no more souls screaming and lamenting from the depths of his being…

Just tired.

Just really tired.

_And now, that I think about it, so am I._

_So am I._

A finger went up to trail the medicine man's eye again.

His voice was an indolent sigh.

"4000 years ago, Neauth saw, in her vision, that I, Balder, the youngest of the gods, would bring about the end of our reign. I would bring about their demise. Our demise."

Water sang a soft tune.

"How?"

Blue eyes stared with a dull light.

"Don't know. Neauth never really saw that part. All she saw, all she knew was that I would, in a matter of time, bring about their deaths. I would, in a way, be their death."

"Was she always right with these visions of hers? This Neauth of yours?"

A simple, tired nod.

"Always."

The medicine man's eye was still slightly damp.

I licked my lips.

"So, let me get this straight," I said softly, turning away from those weary blue eyes, suddenly not so sure that it was any better than those horrid blue-black storms, staring down to the golden dust as I tried to wrap my head around the whole thing, "4000 years ago, you left this world to enter my own universe, in seek of leisure. You met a human girl called Aine, and decided to spend the summer there. Meanwhile, back home, here, in _this _world, your sister Neauth had a vision about you bringing about the death of all the gods-"

"Most."

"Most?"

Another sigh.

"It is as it goes, me dame; I, Balder, god of light and peace, god of music and beauty, would one day, inevitably, bring on the death of the gods and in turn, the new world order. I would bring the war of the gods. I would bring the blood and the screams. If I were to live, the gods would eventually go to war and in turn, kill each other off, almost everyone. Only some will survive. Very few. I will be one of them. I will be the one that starts it all. I will be the one that survives. I don't know how. I don't know why. All there was to know is that my existence ensures the war of the gods and the damnation of the legacy. It was said that I would bring about the war of the gods."

Something in me froze.

"War of the gods?"

He blinked.

Ever so slowly.

His voice was like a tired dream.

"Aye."

My voice was a whisper.

"H-How?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"I don't know either."

I gulped.

"But I don't understand," I shook my head, staring down at my feet, flashes of images, of my imagination running on full time, racing across my mind, across my vision, a kink beginning to grow in my back, my tongue so very sour, "So, Neauth foretold that you would bring about the end of the gods. This war of the gods. Your…your presence would, somehow, ensure that this would come to pass."

Another sigh.

"Unfortunately."

My throat was so dry.

"What does that have to with the world though? You said that you would bring about the end of the world…all you've told me is the end of the gods, not us. You guys. Can't we function without you lot?"

I thought I could hear a little smile in his voice.

"Oh, yes. Almost definitely."

The medicine man's eye was so cold.

"Why than? Why the end of the world?"

Silence.

"Earth will be a battlefield."

I couldn't breath.

With a frozen heart and stilled breath, I gazed away from the golden dust and back to the man sitting opposite me, the god, the golden locks and the burnished blue eyes, the creature foretold to bring about a war that would end the existence of most of the gods, ending their reign forever….

Yet earth was to be their battlefield?

Earth?

This earth?

This soil?

This muddy terrain?

_No._

_No way._

_No fucking way._

_Impossible._

_It's just impossible._

_How could this be possible?_

_How could this be the truth?_

_How?_

_How?_

_Gods…ok._

_Magical sword…fine._

_Crazy witch…. sure._

_Parallel universes…. got it._

_A war of gods…. whatever._

_But earth?_

_As a battlefield?_

_As the combat zone?_

_The arena?_

_The battleground?_

_This was where the gods were supposed to kill each other off?_

_On earth?_

_They were supposed to destroy each other here?_

_Here?_

_No._

_No way._

_No fucking way._

_It can't be._

_It can't._

My voice was just a choke.

"Earth?" I whispered, staring straight ahead, no longer tired, no longer lazy, eyes wide, disbelieving as I stared away into those dull blue eyes, mouth open, tongue dry, mind reeling with all sorts of possibilities, refusing to believe, to understand, fingers pulling against the cold, beaded medicine man's eye, "As in here?"

I could barely even hear myself.

I could barely even think.

_Earth?_

_Our Earth?_

His voice was just a lazy drawl.

"Do you know any other?"

"B-But the people…" I was stammering, I knew that, but I couldn't help it, couldn't help the way my mind was beginning to twist, to turn, a cold, metallic taste stinging the tip of my tongue as I tried to blink away the thought, to squeeze it all away as if it was nothing more than a dream, "All the…all the people…the humans….if the gods are using the land as their battleground…all the people-"

"They will die."

The world crashed.

For a moment, for a silent, breathless moment, all I could hear was the rushing, whispering stream, loud and clear in my head, ringing a crystal clear tune, snuffing away all other sounds, other images, every single thought-

Because it finally made sense.

It was finally clear.

I finally understood.

_Oh God._

I couldn't breath.

"The poem."

He did not even blink.

"Finally."

The world seemed to crack into a million pieces.

A million, brilliant, bloody pieces.

_Oh God._

My tongue went dry.

So very dry.

"No."

His blue eyes were like dull crystals.

"Unfortunately so."

My heart wasn't making a sound.

_Oh God._

My lungs froze.

"_No._"

A little smile crept onto his lips.

"Yes."

I couldn't think.

No.

No.

_No._

For the next few minutes, I just sat there, waiting for him to react, to burst out in laughter, another chance, another hope for him to ride this all away as a poorly-timed, ill-placed joke-

But no.

No.

No.

_No._

He was silent, staring dully, staring lazily, not an emotion etched on his face, golden curls sighing languidly as my jaw dropped open, my heart silent and dead, cold in my body-

And than the words of the poem started to whisper in the back of my mind, the sweet, golden words etched upon the Enfal Tree, upon that black rock, slippery and gliding, smooth and delicate, trailing a bright, gleaming across the opaque rock, nudging, poking at my mind…

The same words.

The very same words.

Gold upon black, whispering, murmuring in my ear, right down to the bottom of my soul-

Because it now made sense.

It finally made sense.

Those words, those stanzas, those gliding gold letters of painting blood, of blackened sun, of treacherous weather, of crimson gore….

_No._

My breath was a whispered gasp.

"That was it meant," it hurt so much to speak, my chest squeezing tight, my lungs collapsing, my body starting to shake, to tremble as I finally realised what it all meant, what it all was, what I had done, "That was it was trying to say. To _warn. _The tree was trying to warn me-"

"Actually, it was more of a warning my siblings left in honour of me."

The smile crept like a whisper.

My heart stabbed.

"No," my voice was trailing, whispering, the pain lancing through my chest, stabbing like a million knives, bloody and raw, shivers clutching at my spine as my mouth went so very dry, fingers digging into rock, heart squeezing away, "No…. that was it meant. That was that were trying to warn…. 'Do you seek t-to know? A-And…. And what?'... It was all _warning _about this war! This war of the gods! Releasing you-"

A flare ignited in those dull blue eyes.

"Jumpstarted doomsday."

The world was spinning.

_Oh God._

With a strangled moan, I reached upwards and buried my face in my hands, palms over my eyes, hiding me, shielding me, collapsing in the darkness as the realization of what had just happened, of what I had just danced spun out of control, whirling before my vision, mocking me, taunting me. Breath pulled shallow and quick, my heart screaming, my lungs strangled, my entire body shivering with that very fact, with that very knowledge of what I just done-

Because I just released Balder.

Somehow, Balder was free.

Because of me.

All because of me.

And now, because of me, the entire world will end.

The entire universe will be destroyed.

Me.

Because of me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

_Me._

I couldn't breath.

I couldn't breath anymore.

The air was so cold, so very cold, darkness blinding me as I rested in my palms, closing my eyes, shutting out of the world, willing myself to wake up from this dream, this nightmare, to make this all go away, to pretend that none of this had ever happened in the first place, to start all over again-

Balder's voice was nothing more than a dream.

A nightmare.

_Oh God._

I wouldn't open my eyes.

"Some call it Doomsday. Others, Armageddon. The nor then people called it Ragnarok,"I just wanted to stare at my hands forever, to stare down into the darkness, to fade away into the black, to pretend, to imagine that I never existed in the first place, to fall away, to be consumed by the abyss, every part of my body shivering with utter horror, "I call it the Boom Boom, you know? Boom Boom? I think that's how it will sound, mostly, when the world comes to an end…at the very end, I think…at least, when the gods die, because I think that's how it will sound like when a god dies…not that I have ever had a first-hand experience-"

My voice was strangled sob.

"Tell me it's a joke."

Blackness pulsed like a dark heart.

"Sorry."

Something burned in my eyes.

"Sorry?" I could barely hear my own voice as I turned back up to him, pulling away from the safety of my palms, from the shivering darkness, tongue dry, throat raw, heart screaming with a pain I just couldn't understand, mind whirling with too much dust, eyes blinking sorely up at those golden curls, "Sorry? You're telling me that I just started the end of life itself-"

"Well, if it would help, it's not like you did it on purpose-"

"If your sister was right about you," my throat was so raw, so tight, my lungs squeezing, my heart strangled, my head pounding as I stared up at those golden curls again, those dull blue eyes which now studied his fingernails, a tired, bored look splayed about his handsome features, water hissing a clear song, "If Neauth…if she saw that you would bring about the end of the world-"

"Here's how it goes, alright?" he had an elbow propped on his knee as he studiously studied his right fingernails, lips slightly pouted, his golden curls sighing against his dark skin as he quietly busied over his nails, biting his inner cheek and looking so very bored, so very calm, my own mind swirling and twisting, a raging storm, "Neauth saw that I was destined to bring about the war of the gods, and in turn, the end of this universe. She didn't see how. She didn't see why. All she knew was that it would be me that would start it all, that would jumpstart the end of the reign. She didn't know how. And, if you're wondering, neither do I. I had no idea about anything. Neither did I had any intention of destroying anything. Why would I? No earth, no fun right? What was the point in that? Besides, I hate war. Always have. Absolutely no fun in blood and grime. No fun at all. Vulcan likes that kind of stuff…but not me. No, no. Not me. Hate it. Absolutely hate it. The only good thing that ever came out of any war, immortal or mortal, was seeing delicious men in their soldier's uniform-"

My throat felt gagged.

My stomach felt twisted.

My eyes kept burning.

"But you would do it than? You would start this war-"

"No…. won't you listening at all, me dame? No. No! I don't want to start a war. I don't want to start anything. I never did. Never was part of my character-"

"But Neauth saw-"

"Yes, Neauth saw that I would start the war, that my existence would bring about the end of the gods, and in turn, end of this world…Yes, yes… I know…. though I completely disagree with it, my sister's vision have never gone wrong, if though starting a war is something I simply will never have time for-"

"But the people," my throat was so raw, so very raw, my mind twisting and turning, pounding and screaming, the words of the poem, the golden warning whispering in the back of my mind, mocking me, taunting me, my heart moaning, crying, wailing at what I had just done, what I had just committed, everything in the world spiralling around, lost in confusion, "All those people…. if earth is going to be the battlefield of this war of yours-"

"Yes, yes…" he was too busy with his nails, too interested, my gut twisted and knotted, eyes burning with smoke, "People will die. Those who get in the way will die. Yes, yes. I know that. We _all _know that- but that's not important right now. I was in your world, having no intention of killing _anyone-_"

"Not important? Not _important-_"

"Would you stop interrupting-"

"The poem warned about would happen if you live, didn't it?" I was glaring now, I was sure of it, my throat raw and red, my lungs tight and hot, my entire body still shivering as I rubbed at my eyes, trying to smite the burn, refusing to cry again, to wail away, to sob and give in to my worry, to my gnawing fear, "It warned about the war, this war that you would, in some way, start if you were alive again-"

"Technically, I will always quite alive. Gods can't really die, you-"

"The blood…the crimson gore….the weather treacherous…."

"All pretty tales-"

"So you're saying that that will never happen?"

A short pause.

And then, a long, tired sigh.

"I'm saying that I don't_ want _it to happen. That doesn't mean it won't."

I could taste the blood on my tongue.

"Right. Because Neauth saw it. And Neauth is never wrong."

"There's always a first time for everything."

My eyes felt as if they were on fire.

My jaw was so tight.

_No._

His voice was quiet.

"I never caused any harm before," with a soft sigh, he looked away from his golden nails and beyond, towards the hard-packed rock, the smooth golden walls, staring away into some dream, into some memory, golden curls hushing for silence, lips slightly parted, his blue eyes snapping up in flames as he gazed into another world, the water singing a sad tune, "Never did. Never wanted to. I liked the mortals. I liked your lot. I never wanted to hurt anymore. I never wanted war. None of it. I hate violence. I hate it….more than anything-but my sister's vision…what Neauth saw overbalanced the very fact that I would _never _do anything. Her vision, her dream….it was the only thing that mattered than. It was the only thing that there was. No music. No beauty. No peace. No simple fact that it was I who destroyed The Void. No simple fact that it was I that allowed creation to occur. No. Nothing. No. That was not important anymore. Not anymore."

He was looking into a dream again.

My head screamed.

_No._

Shivers trembled up my spine.

My tongue was so bitter.

_No._

"The only thing that mattered was that you would bring their end."

A simple, far-off nod.

"Apparently so."

I tried to breath in calmly.

"And me coming here….seeing you…releasing you, I guess-"

"You don't understand," dark lashes blinked, blue eyes trailing to the floor, the golden-locks shivering as he lost himself in the depths of his mind, his voice quiet, his tone firm, his accent rolling smoothly as his frown deepened ever so slightly, blue eyes hidden beneath those gallivanting curls, "I didn't _want _this. I never did. I don't want war. I never wanted war. But here I am, killed, locked, caged away like a beast because of some stupid vision-"

"From your sister, who never got things wrong-"

"But do I deserve it?" with a sudden, thick snarl, Balder shook his curls and with a whip of fair, turned his blue gaze upon me, brow crinkled, wrinkles lining, his face aging as the frown deepened, sank with each growing second, his shoulders squaring up, his chest gleaming gold, fingers clutching down against his pale rock seat as he glared at me through the fog of his curls, blue eyes shied away by looping gold, the water gurgling like the throat of some beast, "Did I deserve it? Tell me, Joey. Did I? I never wanted to do anything but here I am, locked away from a crime I had not committed, a crime I have no intention of committing. How is that fair? How is killing me, destroying, locking me away for 4 millenniums any sort of fair? How? How? Why did they have to kill me?"

My eyes burned.

For a moment, no one spoke as we just stared at each other, the blonde of his curls hiding away his fiery, striking blue eyes, shivering with each, long breath, his lips twisted away into a deep frown, shoulders tensed, my own breath caught in my throat as my mind whirled and whirled and whirled…

_Because it's not fair._

_Of course, it's not fair._

_It's like committing a man to life-imprisonment because you believe he _could _kill someone._

_Complete injustice._

_Completely wrong._

_Than again, the vision from a goddess who never got it wrong…_

_Nevertheless, a vision of the destruction of the word.._

_Does it justify it?_

_Does that justify what had happened to him?_

_To his man?_

_This god?_

_Balder?_

_Was this fair?_

_How could it be fair?_

_How?_

My eyes burned like pyres of burning flames.

My bones shivered, trembling with confusion and fear.

My mind whirled, opinions and facts fighting against one another.

My heart screamed.

_How?_

I could only whisper.

"How did they kill you?"

Golden curls shivered like fine threads in the warm wind.

Blue eyes screamed among the brambles of fair.

I gulped.

_How?_

His voice was oddly calm.

"The simple way," his voice was so calm, so very calm, my head pounding, screaming as the water rushed and giggled, black stalactites hanging above, ready to fall and kill at any moment, "The usual way. I was with Aine at that time, in your world, making merry, loving those summer nights….I was away when Neauth had her vision. It was easy for her than, as Fate would have it, for her to seek the council of the gods, of the rest of the family."

I couldn't stop the shivers.

"Council of gods?"

His eyes were too bright, hidden among the gold.

My hands folded all over again.

"A meeting of all the gods…my oldest sister, Gaia, as well as my oldest brother, Ra'al, lead the council. It is a meeting only called by the gods, and only attended by the gods. We all bring our problems to the council, problems that need sorting out."

I tried to calm my breathing.

"Like you and Thoth, with that pretty nymph girl?"

I thought I saw a little lance of humour in those shadowed blue eyes.

"Aye. Just like that."

Water hissed like a dream.

Blue eyes screamed.

"That's where Neauth when, than?"

"Yes. That's exactly where she went. Where else would she go? She called the meeting and they met at the Council, at Olav; I was away, and was not invited. It didn't matter, after all. They would find me in the end."

Fingers clutched at fleshy arms.

"Neauth told them than?"

A simple, golden nod.

"Yes. She told everything. She told them what she saw."

"What did they say?"

"They decided to kill me."

_Kill me._

_They decided to kill me._

Blood pounded in my ears.

I couldn't feel my legs.

"K-Kill you?"

He sounded too calm.

"Yes. Kill me. It was pretty much agreed by everyone, except for a few. Sometimes, when I think about it, I don't really blame them. Not really. No. I am the youngest of the gods. The most foolish, as Thoth would say. The idea of me being their deaths…. that they even _had _deaths….no. Sometimes, I don't blame them. I can't. They had no other choice."

My heart moaned.

"They could have done something better than kill you."

Blue eyes screamed.

"Maybe."

My voice still sounded weak.

"That's what they did than? That's it? They learned about the vision behind your back-"

"And than, they came from me."

I couldn't stop the shivers.

"But…But….you didn't see them come? They killed you, caught you off-guard?"

It was than that something gentle entered those horrid, screaming blue eyes.

Something tender.

For a moment, Balder kept silent as his piercing, glaring blue eyes faded back into something soft, something quiet, the blue among the gold wilting into a gentler cerulean, like the colour of a quiet sea, of a still, ocean night. His jaw loosened a notch, shoulders slumping down slightly.

Flute whispered in the grasp of his golden hands.

Golden curls laughed.

I gulped.

"Balder?"

A small smile crept up onto his lips.

"No, not really," he wasn't staring me again, but through me, remembering a time, a place, smiling gently, tenderly, ever so sadly, my mind tired but still whirling, still dancing, water singing it's lonely song, "I was warned."

He seemed lost away, all over again.

I hugged my arms closer.

"By whom?"

His voice was like a dream.

"Arian, my older brother."

I couldn't stop trembling.

"W-Who?"

Golden curls sighed.

"Arian, god of night, god of the moon. Three older before me. Believe it or not, he was my favourite."

_Arian._

_Another name to remember._

I bit my lip.

"He warned you?"

Another lost, faded nod.

"Yes. He did just that. After the council meeting, after Neauth confession of her vision, my brothers and sisters began to plot my death. My murder, if you will. I was away…with Aine, in your world…No, I didn't know. I didn't suspect a thing. Not a thing…But they did it. They planned. They prepared…but my brother Arian…. no. Not him. He was one of the few who didn't agree to the plan, Joey. He didn't want me killed, no matter Neauth's vision. Yes. He was one of the few who were still loyal to me. He was one of the few who truly loved me. Yes. He loved me. He loves me. As much as I love him. He was my favourite brother, my best friend. We were and will always be loyal to each other."

The air was so sweet.

"He was the god of night?"

The smile on his lips only grew wider.

"Funny, isn't it? I am the god of light, of all that is bright. His realm is of the dark, of the lonely, cold night... we are opposites, mirror images, but I love him all the same. He is the only one in all the worlds that I would die for. I would destroy The Void again, just for him."

Something pulled in my heart.

For a moment, I just stared at him, at his faded smile, his lost eyes, his curls whispering a soft tune as they sang and laughed, remembering a better time, a good time, my own heart screaming and tearing….

Because Balder loved this brother of his.

He loved him dearly.

He still did.

He was willing to die for this Arian.

And Arian, obviously, was willing to die for him.

They loved each other.

Two brothers.

Two completely individual siblings.

Two people so different from each other.

_Like Jared and I._

_Just like Jared and I._

_Just like us._

_Only I didn't safe my brother._

_Only I let him die._

_I couldn't safe Jared._

_I couldn't safe my own brother._

_It took Will dying to bring him back, and even than…_

_All the bickering…_

_All the fighting…_

_His love for Scarlett…_

_No._

_No._

_I had none of it._

_I didn't._

_I wouldn't._

_I couldn't._

_This Arian warned his brother in his toughest hour…_

_But I couldn't even protect him. _

_He came back from the dead…._

_But I let my own brother die in the first place._

_I let Jared die._

_I let him die._

My soul screamed.

_I let him die._

Balder's voice was like a claw, pulling me out of those murky depths.

My eyes were burning all over again.

"He came for me, that very summer's night," he was breathing calmly, so very calmly, staring into the wall, into a dream, smiling softly a memory now lost forever, my own heart breaking, cracking, screaming as I tried to listen to the story, to push Jared's face out of my mind, to push his pale, silent, dead face, my soul wilting as my eyes burned with the flaming agony, throat caught forever, "I was in that village, that little hunting village near the beaches…with Aine, no less, enjoying the sweet summer night, that sweet warm wind…I didn't know anything. I didn't suspect anything, but than there he was, riding just ahead of the rest of them."

I tried to swallow back the burning pain.

"They were coming for you?"

Nothing more than a faded smile.

"Aye. That very night. They had tracked me down, among all the universes, all the alternate realities….somehow, they had tracked me down and upon that night, upon that warm full moon, they came for me, all of them, every single one of them. Somehow, however, Arian came for me first…I found him in the outskirts of the village, and it was there that he told me everything. He told me about Neauth's vision, about my supposed destiny, of our brothers and sisters coming for my blood."

"You believed him?"

"Not a first, no. I couldn't believe it. Why would they kill me, after all? Vision or not…I was their brother. Their baby brother. I thought that meant something, that family, our blood was precious and pure…but no. No. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the stake of their own lives. I didn't matter. Blood didn't matter. The only blood they wanted was mine, to end this wretched destiny even if Neauth's visions _always _had a way of coming through in the end…. but they didn't care. They wanted me dead. They wanted to live. It was only Arian that warned me; he couldn't stop them. No, of course not. He couldn't take on all of them. No. Not even if he wanted to. The only thing he could do was warn me. To try and safe me, to get me to run before it's too late-"

I rubbed at those fiery eyes.

"Could you?"

The soft, sad, lonely smile wilted away like a dying rose.

Something hard crept into those blue eyes.

"No."

I could barely breathe.

For a few moment, a few minutes, Balder sat in silence, his soft, tender gaze falling away as his eyes remembered something else, something darker, something cruel, a black storm creeping about those deep blues, his lips pulling back into a frown. Golden curls froze against his dusty skin.

It was as if he stopped breathing again.

_Damn it._

I swallowed back my own issues.

_No._

_Now's not the time for that._

_Now was the not the time at all._

My throat was so sore.

So, so sore.

_Now was not the time._

I gulped.

"What happened?"

His voice was like ice.

"What do you think happened, Joey?" he was calm again, quiet again, silent and cold, his face passive, his jaw tight, his blue eyes staring away into the another world, a darkness creeping over them, slithering over them, his icy voice whispering across the arch, cold and dead, golden curls hanging silent, my own stomach turning," What do you think? Arian warned me…but there was no time. There was nowhere I could hide. No where I could run. I was trapped. Arian's warning or not. I was trapped. Cornered like a beast. There was nothing I could do."

My heart screamed.

I bit my lip.

_Now was not the time._

"Couldn't you have….I don't know…hide? Seek protection from someone…hell, couldn't you try to talk them out of it, seeing as you are so darn talkative-"

"It would have done no good. None of it would. I was grateful for Arian's warning, truly, grateful and obliged, indebted, his words somewhat comforting, reminding me that not every one of my siblings had wanted me dead…but no. It could not save me. It did not save me. There was no escape."

Water hissed like an army of snakes.

"You were trapped."

"Like an animal."

Shivers crept up my spine.

_Now was not the time._

His voice was like a blank slate.

"There was only one thing I could do, Joey. Only one thing. I couldn't hide. I couldn't run. I knew I was about to die-"

"So what did you do?"

Blue eyes screamed.

"I created a portal."

_What?_

I clutched at my arms, hugging tightly.

Jared's face whispered at the back of mind.

_Now is not the time._

"What?"

A strange light bloomed in those deep blue orbs.

A strange light staring right through me.

"A portal, Joey," he said simply enough, emotions gone, face blank, his eyes wandering off to a far and distant land, golden locks frozen in place, his chest still, his shoulders straight, his entire being caught away in the remnants of some memory, of some horrid, terrifying memory, "A pathway between universes. It was how I went about the realities, how I universal hiked, if you will. I went through portals. Always through portals. Portals created by me. Every god can do it. Only the gods."

My brow crinkled slightly.

"What? I don't-"

"A portal is an opening to another world, Joey. A door that leads to the other universes, to whatever universe we choose…. whatever at all. Only the gods can make such things. Only we can create these doors, these portals right out of thin air, right out of smoke. It is something only we can do…. magic only we can harness. Portals are yet another advantage of the gods."

My tongue felt like dust.

"But you said that there was no time to run-"

"This portal wasn't for me, Joey. It was for Aine."

_What?_

For a moment, silence reigned as I stared, open-mouthed, crinkled-brow, water licking and slapping, resounding through the golden cave-

And then, with a slight clearing of the throat, I pushed away the faded, dim image of Jared from the back of my mind and leaned forward, grasping at my arms, biting on my tongue. Shivers rippled through my body.

"What?"

His voice was so very cold.

"I created a portal for her, Joey," golden curls hung silent, like dead marshes on a humid day, blue eyes drifting away, lost forever, "A door to lead her to the original universe, to this universe…I knew that my brothers and sisters would bring me back to this world in due's end. I would be brought back here, alive or barely. They would want me here. They would have wanted that. So, at the dime of midnight, on that warm summer night, under the watchful gaze of Arian and the impending cavalry of my family seeking my blood, I created a portal and gave it to Aine so that, when time comes, she can find a way to rescue me. I could not risk Arian…he would suffer my fate if he helped even more. No…. No. It had to be a human. It had to be someone they wouldn't suspect. It had to Aine. After they were done with me, after they had killed me, I needed her to sneak into our world and rescue me, to bring me back, to save me. I needed her-"

"How exactly did you expect her to do that?"

"I had to do something."

"Did she even come?"

Water screamed.

"No."

I stared at my feet.

For the next few minutes, no one spoke.

Not a single word.

_Not a word._

Than, with a soft clearing of my throat, I continued again, determined to carry on the conversation, to learn more, to do anything to keep Jared and Will out of my head….

My voice came out as a choke.

"How did you actually _give _a portal? I mean, isn't it some sort of otherworldly door-"

"A portal can be transfixed to an object."

"Ah. Like Harry Potter."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

My throat was too raw.

My heart squeezed.

_Now is not the time._

"No. I suppose not."

"Portals can change shape, Joey," his blue eyes were still far away, still lost, still gone forever, locks frozen gold in time, "They may be transfixed as an object but it's a chameleon; it changes, to suit the people around them, to blend in at times, and on other occasions, to forecast the nearest person's future if he or she was to follow this path."

Brow crumpled.

"I don't-"

"When a person touches it, Joey, this portal, this gift to my Aine would change, would metamorphose to show its bearer the future, the destiny that lies for him or her if they were to take the path, to enter the portal and into this world. A sort of warning, really, to warn Aine, when she was ready, about what she had to face…. even though she never ever came-"

_Oh God._

It hit me, square in the face, slapping me through and through, screaming through my bones, through my being, raging through my blood as it spelled out each word-

And than I was gaping, like an idiot.

Like a complete, total idiot.

_Oh God._

My heart stopped.

My lungs collapsed.

I couldn't breathe.

_Oh God._

My voice was nothing more than a whisper.

"The painting."

The fog cleared a little from those blue eyes.

"What?"

I had to blink twice to let it sink even further.

To let it fully register.

_Oh God._

My knuckles had turned white.

My heart was dead.

I couldn't even think.

_Oh God._

I could barely hear myself.

"The painting," I whispered, staring before me, staring through the rock, my mind thinking, whirling, finally understanding everything, just about everything, the lone, new fact registering in my head, slapping me alive, coursing through my blood and screaming through every ounce of bone, like a sting of electricity right through the soul, "The painting. In the attic. Back home…. Oh God. _Oh God. _The portal-"

His voice was completely blank.

"Aye. That was the portal."

My tongue tasted like saw dust.

I shivered.

"I don't…. How? _How_? How on earth did that…. _portal_…. end up in my attic? How the hell did it get there?"

Blue eyes burned.

"That, I don't know. Aine never came for me…. so I don't know what she did with that portal. I have no idea. It must have changed its shape several times in its 4000 years of history, and by the time it got to you, it was-"

"It was painting!"

"Aye."

"A painting depicting a ship, with black waters-"

"A ship that was your future if you had ever gone through the portal. Which you did, of course. The ship is now, very truly, your future."

_Only I don't know that ship._

_I have no clue._

For a second, I sat there, stunned, silenced with this new find, thinking hard, thinking deep, taking in long, deep breaths as I tried to sort out the mess in my head, biting my tongue, clutching the rock-

And trying to remember that painting, that painting that had, so long ago, faded away beneath my fingers, that had let me fallen through, into the tumbling sea.

That painting of a ship, a black ship, with dark waters and stormy clouds-

And that was it.

Nothing more.

That was all the painting had been.

A painting about a ship in a storm.

Nothing remarkable.

Nothing interesting.

Nothing at all, discounting the fact that it had actually brought me here in the first.

No.

Absolutely nothing.

_How could this be my future? _

_I don't know this ship._

_I don't-_

I bit my tongue to hold back any thoughts.

No.

_No._

_This was mad._

_This was so very mad._

My stomach suddenly felt sick.

I was still shivering.

"Didn't anyone else fall through? Before me, I mean," I said firmly enough, my mind already aching from all the revelations, all the thoughts, all the swirling, churning mess, bile hot in my throat with this new, stunning knowledge, the new fact, the real truth burning like a brand on the back of my neck, "Surely-

"Oh yes. But none ever made it this far."

"But than what happened? After the portal, I mean? If you gave the portal to Aine, and she never came along-"

A little smile crept onto his golden lips.

The mist whispered away.

Water sighed.

_So, so mad._

Blue eyes turned back to me.

"Yes, Joey. They killed me."

Silence screamed.

For the next few moments, we both kept our silence as I tried to ponder everything through, every new fact, every supposed truth; the gods, the magic swords, the visions, the blood-lusting family, the portals, the painting-

It was too much.

Too, _too _much.

Moments ran by, bright, burning moments, screaming, silent moments as I just sat there and thought and thought, ignoring his eyes on me again, the mist dissipating away from those blue orbs, the god once more returning back to this world, staring at me again and not at some far-away memory, a smile creeping onto his lips as his eyes fell completely on me-

But all I could do was stare down at my shoes and think.

And think.

And think.

And think.

_Think._

There was too much things, too much objects, too much magical, nonsensical things that shouldn't exist, too much fluffy fairytales, too much whirling, twirling garbage of mythical gods and powerful knives and ancient prophecies and murderous plans and paintings that are actually portals in disguise….

No.

Too much.

It was too much.

Too, _too _much.

Head pounded and screamed as I huddled in my seat and thought, running over the facts, clearing through the entire story, water hissing along with the rushing, screaming train of my thoughts-

Balder's voice chimed in like a bright, golden bell.

"It's not that hard to understand."

Irritation ignited.

"Says you!" I snapped, all to suddenly, whirling my head up from the ground to stare back up at the god; Balder was just sitting there, his vacant, blank face now gleaming with a big, bright smile, dimples flashing, blue eyes now crystal clear, laughing, giggling, whirling with a honey mirth that hadn't been there just moments ago, bright and alive, kicking with energy, with pure youth. It was the man that I had first seen, the man from before, his gleaming smile and laughing curls springing back to life, right in front of my eyes. Water laughed a merry tune as the man switched his dour expression to one full of life, like a spring falling from the mountain top, eyes laughing and dancing, the freshest nectar of spring. His voice rang true again, clear and bright, laughing and smooth, the accent rolling perfectly above the crisp of his usual, overzealous voice, reborn from the ashes all over again. Golden curls snapped up like dandelions.

His smile beamed like a radiant star.

_God._

_What _is _with this man and his mood swings?_

The frown refused to leave my lips.

Not that it mattered to him.

"I'm telling you, Joey," he was grinning again, grinning like the fool he was, cheeky smile and all, eyes bright and eager, face young again, irritation prickling at the back of my neck at his drastic mood swing, at his sudden turn of behaviour, suddenly very sick of all his acting and playing and just plain stupidity, "It's easy. Simplest story you'll ever hear. Arian warned me, I prepared the portal for Aine, and than, like a warrior, like a god, I waited for them. Yup. Yup! Waited for them, I did. Up on those cliffs, near the village-"

I didn't even bother to keep the growl out of my voice.

"Did you fight them?"

His grin just made him look more like the fool he was.

_Fool._

_Yes._

_That's what he is._

_A stupid, over-dramatic, PMS-ing fool._

Golden locks giggled.

"Of course not! Why would I?"

Knuckles clenched white.

"Because…because they were coming to kill you, you son-"

"It was whole entire family, Joey! Every one of them! Do you know how many there are? Do you? Do you? I couldn't take them on. Not all them. No, no. Not in my dizziest daydream! I had no chance, you see. No chance at all-"

"So you just stood there like an idiot and let them attack you?"

"I just stood there like an idiot and let them kill me."

He was smiling too much.

_God…_

"You-"

"Well, what was I do, eh?" He grinned, smiled, beamed like thousand stars, energy suddenly springing into his every muscle as he now sat up straight, firm, golden curls laughing against his shoulder as his firm voice rolled about the little cavern, blue eyes laughing with pure mirth, "I couldn't fight them. No. No way. Not fight and survive, anyhow. I had no choice, see? I had none. None. None at all. All I could do was stand there and accept my fate-"

"Which was to be killed by your family."

He didn't even seem to notice the annoyance in my voice.

_God…_

It was as if the irritation, the frustration had bloomed over all other emotions, taking control of my body.

It was as if all I could feel now as utter annoyance.

And complete self-pity for being the idiot who got stuck in all of this.

_God…_

His voice sounded loud and clear, bright like a star.

"It was not that bad, you know."

I tried not to grit my teeth.

"You mean dying? Being murdered?"

Golden curls laughed.

"I'm a god, Joey. I _can't _die. No matter what. No matter how. We can't die. Not by conventional means, anyway. Not normally. I don't know about Neauth's vision, about the end of the world being all of us gods getting into a big ol' mess and _killing _each other off…. but no one has ever actually killed a god. No one. No one at all. Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Gods can't die…we've never died…and they all learned that with me-"

My frown could only grow deeper.

"Fine. Got it. Gods can't die."

Flute danced among his slim fingers.

"Not unless you find a way to destroy the _soul _of the god….you see, Joey, 4000 years ago, on that cliff, in your world, my brothers and sisters destroyed my body. They ruined it. They came out from the skies, charging like beasts, screaming and screeching, riding their cavalry, swords a-blazing- and than, just like that, they cut through me, sliced me, diced me up and put me in a stew. Like a potato. A big, strong, very pretty potato. A nice golden potato. Yes, yes. Nice potato. Very nice potato-"

"Are you seriously-"

"They clawed through me, you little thumb-sucker, clawed all the way through, to itsy bits of shreds. They clawed, they gnawed, did everything that ended with an 'awed'….they burned me, Joey. Burned me! Drowned me, stabbed me, devour me and consumed me…like I was nothing. Ohhhh…. nothing at all, eh? Nothing at all! I was like a lamb, like dinner; ripping, tearing, shredding, igniting, gutting, stopping my heart forever, turning me to ash…and all I could do was scream and scream and scream as they took my body and destroyed it forever-"

Even through my annoyance, I couldn't help but grimace at the thought.

"That must have hurt like hell."

His smile was a cheeky whiplash.

"Not as bad as some of my lovers, eh?"

I wanted to punch him.

"Balder-"

"Oh, it hurt! It hurt bad! Really bad. Really, really bad. Really, really, really, really, really, really, really-"

"Balder-"

"They destroyed my body, Joey. They took it and they turned it to ash…no more heart, no more brain, no more pretty curls, no more handsome face-"

"But you lived?"

"Well, yes. They could destroy my body, Joey, leave me naked, leave me vulnerable, leave me completely ruined…but they could never destroy my soul."

Silence reigned.

For another few moments, Balder grinned while I frowned, my eyes glaring over at his dancing, bright blues.

My frown felt heavy, set in stone.

_Damn this._

I sighed.

"So, in other words, they didn't really kill you."

His smile gleamed like a half-cresting moon.

Water hissed.

"No, no. No way. They didn't kill me. Not really. They destroyed my body…but they could not destroy my soul. They couldn't. No matter how hard they tried. They annihilated my body, but my soul-"

"They couldn't destroy your soul."

"Nope! Not a chance. When a mortal's body perishes, Joey, when they die, their soul, their core fades away to the spirit world…but not me. I didn't go anywhere. I couldn't. Without my body, I could only hover between the dimensions, neither here nor there. My siblings hadn't known of this, of course, seeing as I was the first dead god. They didn't anticipate my body to die, but my soul to survive. No. No way. They did not anticipate that _at all._"

Annoyance still pounded in my head.

My frown only sunk deeper.

"So you were dead….but not really?"

A beaming, brilliant grin.

"Funny, isn't it?"

"But what did they do than? How did you end up here?

"Well, they did what only they could do; they had to lock me away. They didn't know what would happen, if I would return, grow back….the only way that they could make sure that the vision never came true, that the prophecy of their deaths never passed was to ensure that I never came out into the world again. They had to lock me away, to hide me, to make sure that I never saw the light of the sun again. They threw away my sword, blah, blah, blah…they couldn't kill me, not truly. This was the only other way."

I thumbed the medicine man's eye again.

Black stalactites stabbed.

"So they locked you in here?"

His golden curls bobbed merrily with his rapid, quick nod.

Blue eyes laughed.

"Aye," water was hissing away, rushing, pushing, my mind still whirling, still accepting, a headache gnawing at my temple as I stared over at the beaming, golden god, his muscles purring, running like cream, blue eyes flashing bright as my frown sank in deeper and deeper, frustration still surging hot through my veins, "Aye, me dame. That's exactly what they did. They scattered what was left of my body on those cold, black beaches and than, with my frail, vulnerable, naked soul, they left your world and returned to mine, to ours…. Hoppity, hop, hop and they brought my soul back, ruined and ashamed, tortured and lost, my every being, my every soul weeping in horror, in disbelief, in utter betrayal, yearning for Arian, for Aine, agony and sorrow clutching what was left of me as I realised my doom…and than, they built this island."

Water laughed.

My brow crinkled.

"What?"

He was still smiling like an idiot.

"They created this island, Joey, right out of this waters…well, it was actually Calypso and Gaia who created this slap of land, though from I have seen, they didn't pay much attention in decorating the place-"

"But it's some sort of volcanic crater-"

"Whatever it may be, it was designed to keep me away, to lock me for all times, for eternity. The island was created to be my cage, Joey, my jail cell. I was never meant to leave. I was never meant to escape. They created The Enfal Tree-"

He pointed up to the hanging black stalactites.

"And buried me underneath it, the tree designed by Gaia, effused with sorcery, a sort of lock upon the cage door. The whole entire island is guarded by magic, and the only places I could venture is in the darkness of these caves; No. No. They did not want me to see light again. They did not want to see me again."

I bit my lower lip.

"But the dragon-"

"Metus and Rygor were Hel's idea; she never really like me, jealous whore if you ask me. Never liked me. Never a kind word. Not once. Not even once….if you want someone to blame for all your fights and blood, blame it on her. Not me. It was her idea to guard the island, the tomb with those two. She wanted a daemon and a dragon as my jailers. Her own creations, if I must be true. She created them herself, just for this occasion. Metus guards the outermost rim with his mist of evil and pale, killing random sailors who come too close, while Rygor guards the island, ensuring that I would never escape. _Never. _They were created to guard this island, to guard me. That was their only purpose, their only goal…well, it was Rygor's only goal. Apparently, Metus always wanted a little bit more in life..."

Almost instantly, the image of the shady deal, of the lone boat floating silent before the chained daemon, of his white, sightless eyes, his whispering tongue, his horrid, horrid deal….

I could barely stop the shivers again.

_Damn it._

I hugged my arms even tighter.

My frown was fading.

"Why was Metus chained up to that pole?"

It was as if he was just too happy about everything.

"Like I said. He was more adventurous, as you obviously learned from your little deal with him…by the way, how on _earth _do you plan on keeping to that, eh? Killing a siren? _Again_? There will be absolutely no time in our schedule for something like that! Gallivanting around, killing sirens…no, no. My sister won't be pleased with that. Not a bit. Besides, we won't have the _time_…. but you've got me off-topic again, haven't you? Yes, yes, I'm off topic, completely on a totally different path, which is, really, all your fault-"

I cleared my throat.

"But if they destroyed your body, and buried only your soul here, how on earth do you look-"

"Well, my body grew back, of course silly! Took me a few hundred years to do it, wretchedly painful too….but yup! Yup! I grew my body back, just how I like it- I thought I eavesdropped through the sword a conversation about this between you and Circe-"

"Right…Circe might have said something like this-"

"And she was right. Righto! Completely and absolutely right! They buried my soul, they hid me away but I grew back my body, in just the way I like it! It took me a little bit, but I quite like how it turned up, don't you? Shoulders broader than before, and though I looked a little older than I would wish too…well, we've all got to live with what we've got! Besides-"

"Did the other gods know about portal? About your plan with Aine?"

His teeth were like gleaming pearls.

"Fortunately, no."

Thumb kissed against the flat, engraved bone of the medicine man's eye.

"Do they even know about any of the others that came through the portal?"

Blue eyes chuckled.

"Nope."

I gulped.

"What about me?"

His voice smiled above the rushing stream.

I couldn't stop the shivers.

"They don't know a thing, dame. Not a thing. Not a thing!" fingers still clutched my arms, hugging myself, pulling myself as my tongue rolled bitter, shivers creeping up along my spine as the god sat opposite me in a completely different posture, grin bright, eyes dancing, golden curls kissing against the sandy dunes of his perfect features, voice like a cherry, annoying bell, "They don't know…but the moment you and I step out beyond this island, the moment you and I run for our lives, they will know. They will know that I've escaped. They will know that you are helping me. They will know that you managed to kill Rygor and break the spell and than….well…and than, Joey…. They'll track us down. They'll find us, find you-"

"Why? Why me? I never wanted any of this-"

"Doesn't matter, Joey. Doesn't matter a lick. You helped me escape. You got past Metus and Rygor, and you broke the spell. I'm free because of you. It was Rygor's death that has broken the enchantment, Joey…you, who have released me, willingly or not…. and the minute we step off the island, the minute we leave….well, they will find us. They will track us down and kill us-"

And than, with a burst of golden curls, Balder jumped onto his feet, padding softly on bare toes, his smile leaping up along with him as his body unfolded and stretched out into a perfect stand, looming tall above, chest heaving deep, his blue eyes laughing down at me as he pulled to his feet-

And spoke up to the golden ceiling, grinning from ear to ear.

I had to strain my neck just to look up at him.

My brow crumpled in confused.

_What now?_

His voice was like a rapid train.

"Which is why, little thumb-sucker, we must leave at this very instance…. do you like that, by the way? Thumb-sucker? It's my new nickname for you…yes, yes. I liked it. I love it! It fits you _so _perfectly-"

"Wait, wait," I frowned even more, staring up at his golden hair, his blue eyes, his grinning lips and his idiotic face, wondering what on earth he was saying now, becoming bewildered all over again, "What are you saying-"

Water laughed a silly tune.

"I'm saying we have to go. Now."

_Now?_

"Now? You want to go _now_?"

"Yes. Now."

"You…you were just explaining to me about how the gods don't know I'm here, and that if we leave the island, they will find us-"

"Yes. Exactly. That's why we have to go."

Bewilderment stung like a nasty bite.

I frowned even more.

He just smile.

"What? No….No…you were saying-"

"Yes, well…I've already talked so much-"

"You just said that we left the island, they will find us-"

"Exactly…which is why we have to find somewhere else to carry on this little discussion of ours- the longer we stay here, the more paranoid I'm becoming! You broke the spell, and who knows how long it takes before my brothers and sisters realise that. Eh? Now. You don't want to give them an easy chase, do you?"

I could only gawk.

"We were having a serious conversation!"

"Which can happen anywhere else, anywhere but this hole; I've been here for over 4000 years, dame! You would think that I would get sick and tired of this-"

"But we can't leave the island without them knowing-"

"Not unless we go somewhere where they can't find us all over again-"

"Where?"

"Anywhere. I don't know. I don't care. With the nymphs maybe? They have always been nice to me, though I'm not sure their magic can shield us from my brothers and sisters. No, no…they will hunt us down surely if we went there. No…No. Not the nymphs, though their cousins, the pixies-"

"I don't even want to be here-"

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it?" there was that mock again, that taunt, that cheeky smile crooking along dusty skin as I gaped and stared, clutching at my arms, trying to wrap my head around everything happening all about me, "You got yourself into this mess!"

My eyes burned.

"I wouldn't even be here if not for _your _stupid portal!"

"Try explaining that to them when they hunt you down and kill you!"

My heart screamed.

I gulped.

"You're going to bring about the end of the world!"

A playful, blue wink.

"Well. I guess we'll just have to see about that, eh?"

I couldn't breathe.

For a few moments, silence screamed as I stared up at Balder and he stared down at me, my arms hugging my body tight, his flute dancing among his loose fingers at the sides, smile cheeky and bright, eyes raw and alive. Golden curls hushed along the fine, strong tanned jaw; my entire mind was whirling, twisting, catapulting, whirpooling, a raging storm of information, of newly-acquired knowledge, of all the riddles and stories that should never had existed, of all the lies and truths and biting words that gnawed against the side of my brain, taunting me, insulting me, mocking me, whirling and whirling, never-ending-

Because if the tree spoke true-

If the poem was true-

If I wasn't going mad and the puzzle that my brain had formed together was accurate and exact-

Than the world was coming to an end.

I had broken a 4000-years-old spell by killing Rygor.

I had opened the door to the tomb.

I had set Balder free.

And what?

What?

_What?_

_End of world?_

_If I let Balder walk out of here, if I let him leave…_

_Was that signing the end of this universe?_

_The deaths of billions?_

_A massacre?_

_Genocide?_

_Had I just unleashed genocide?_

_Armageddon?_

_Was that it?_

_Was that what I had just done?_

Blue eyes laughed.

_Was it even possible?_

_Could this god really start the end of the world?_

_This golden fool?_

_Really?_

_Really?_

_Would he bring actually bring about the end of the world?_

_Have I actually begun doomsday?_

_Judgement Day?_

I couldn't breathe.

For a few moments, for the last few precious moments, silence screamed as we looked at each other, water hissing, heart screaming, blood drumming in my ears as the thoughts, the arguments whirled about my head, blinding me, deafening me, clawing and biting at the walls of brain, like a trapped beast crying its laments on the cage walls, tearing and gnawing and biting and shredding and destroying everything forever-

_Will._

"I've got a plan."

**And there we go! Sorry if this one was complicated again! Hard chapter, really. Really hard! Probably the hardest one to write…ever…I also know that its really, really, really long…**

**So please, just take your time with it. Please have patience.**

**Anyhow, thanks for all your reviews, guys. Well, most of you…but thanks anyway! Really love them! Please let me know if you have anything to say.**

**The end is next, guys, so watch out for it! Should be out in a matter of days! Take care, and see you!**

**XOXO**


	57. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.**

**First of all, let me begin by saying:**

**To each his own.**

**I'm not going to argue. I'm not going to fight. You have your opinion and you are entitled to have it. I respect that. No more childish chatter from either of us, please.**

**Anyhow, here it is.**

**This is it.**

**The end.**

**Finally.**

**Epilogue**

It was dusk.

Before me, beyond the steep black edge of the mountaintop, surrounding me, doming me, the sky was a dark, churning orange, stretching from end to end, from the beginning to infinity. It was flawless, perfect, a beautiful dark world curving atop me, sheltering me, watching over me; in the gloom of the dying day, it was ablaze, aflame, burning high above me like chariots of fire racing across the world, tearing flames of bright gold. Everything it touched, everything it saw felt its eternal blaze, it's soft, gentle flames, the great skies ablaze with the songs of the dying day. Clouds, thin, wispy clouds shredded through the doming inferno, the rich, thick flames, shadows of dark whipping through the amber, like leaves in the wind, lost forever. They barely stood out, stood no ground against the soft gentle flames of the evening sky, frothing waves against the bonfire of the dusk.

Wispy shadows whispered through the flames.

It was a beautiful dusk.

Down below, beyond the cracking edge of the summit, beyond the rut of my boots, the ocean spread out, far and wide, mirroring the sky, competing with it as it matched it all the way, tangoing with the burning soft flames of the evening skies. No land, no blip; just endless water, a dark, dark orange against the burning inferno of the beautiful dusk, bleak and quiet, hushed in the gloom. Waves rolled over the gentle dark plains, delicate, soft waves, the white froth a dancing ember as the wind rushed across the cold, quiet waters, crashing down below, far, far away. Thunder echoed like a lovely dream as water clawed at the beach down below, in the shady distance, rumbling softly, moaning quietly, groaning a lament of broken bones and lost loves. Spray kicked in gleaming gold, like diamond dust in the air, the dark of the dying day hushing across the sleepy ocean, singing a sweet lullaby.

Seagulls darted, glowing gold in the light of the fading star.

Waves sighed.

It was my last dusk.

At the end of the world, at the end of all things, in the soft burning embers of the skies and dark orange of the sleepy waves, the sun sank slowly into the dark waters, melting away into the abyss. Already half of its beautiful face was gone, eaten up by the sea, devoured by the night; it was nothing more than a perfect circle of brilliant gold, like a giant coin drifting into the waves, gleaming and glowing, yawning tiredly as it fell away into its slumber. Tendrils of cloud, of wispy dark shadows cushioned its fall, its descent from the soft burning embers of the heavens to the cold, clutches of the sea, shying along its perfect, curved edges, kissing its golden face. It's light, it's faded, dying light caressed against the soft dark waves that consumed it, lighting a path, lighting a trail, beautiful gold kissing against the frolicking, laughing waves, like a gleaming stairway up to the skies. Golden seagulls sailed towards the sinking, brilliant ship.

It was like a lidless, golden eye falling away to the depths of night.

Light danced.

I sighed.

_It's dusk._

In the end of the day, in the last few breaths of the dying light, everything was fading, darkening, the sea growing deeper, the flaming sky growing older, the golden sun sinking into the bleak waters as the world slowly faded away into night; the wind was still so fresh, though, still so sweet, ringing cold and true against my skin, chilling to the bone. Blonde curls laughed in the tendrils of the sweet breeze, trailing into the burning skies, flying back, loose, free, whipping away into the wind, giggling with maddening glee. Above, the branches of The Enfal Tree loomed silent, unmoved while the wind rang true and clear, chuckling among my curls, kissing against my skin, sweet with the scent of the dark sea. The medicine man's eye laughed along, fumbling against my chilled cheek, beads rattling like a wind-chime caught away, lost in the breeze, torn sleeves fluttering by, hands cold and numb. At this height, at the very top of the black mountain, at the summit of the world, the wind was cold as ice, crashing against my body like a million shards, pushing me back, trying to lift me off the ground, the air thin and moist with the frail burning of the dusk-

And yet, despite the cold, despite the icy wind, the world was warm, falling into sleep, the light leaving the skies for the soft blankets of a dark night. Gulls screeched up, mere whispers at this height, gliding above the tossing golden waves, wings licking the amber sprays, their gleaming bodies kissing the waters and flying to the sunset, vanishing into the horizon, into another world. Waves crashed soft thunders, remnants of distant places, moaning and groaning far below as they flicked gleaming flecks of gold into the sweet wind, gnawing against the broken shores, against the feet of giants. Wind chilled sweet and true, ringing through my bones, through my every vein, rushing, coursing along with my blood as I stared out into the distant sun and its setting glory…

And sighed.

That was all I could.

I could only sigh.

_My last dusk._

It was so quiet up here, so very quiet, far away from the world, standing high above, touching the burning skies, lost in the icy, whirling wind as I stared into the setting burning disk, watching as the day finally ended, as the light faded away; there was nothing, nothing more the soft hush of the crashing waves, the screeching whispers of the travelling gulls and the howl, the deafening, icy howl of the cold wind, cupping over my ears, tearing through my body. Torn, bloodied sleeves flapped along like a pair of flags caught in a gale, trashing against my body, kicking against my hips, the black dust of the mountaintop swirling over the rocky roots and about my black boots. The medicine man's eye rattled in the glowing embers of the fading day.

Waves gleamed gold in the dark, endless plain.

The wind laughed.

_My very last._

It was no longer raining ash, no frail, black ash falling from the sky, burning hot, burning dull, like the tears of the dead falling down onto earth; the rain had now long stopped but the ashes still clutched to the rock, shying over dusty grains, black and flaky, swirling about my ankles. Dark soot clung to the tops of the rocky black branches, like black snow, caking the smooth rock and dusting the land, crisping the summit like sprinkles on a cherry cake. The wind howled fierce and true, relentless and cold, but the smell of sulphur still spiced the air, very faint now, a thin, underlying foul beneath the fresh sweet of the raging sea wind; they no longer choked my throat, burned my eyes, strangled my lungs, a persistent but faded scent, long whipped away in the caress of the wind. Skies burned like remnants of the falling ashes, as if it was the torching heavens that had wept away these black dead embers.

Sulphur whispered like the sweet scent of death.

The world faded.

"My very last."

The sun smiled in answer.

_My very last sunset._

I sighed.

With a soft exhale of breath, I folded my arms, fingers grabbing at elbows as I hugged myself, shielding myself from the icy onslaught, yellow sleeves tearing red as the sun kissed warm against my healed arms, like a forgotten lover's kiss stinging against the skin. Shadows leaped about, dancing with the last light, the burning embers of the fading day singing a quiet song as I held myself back, clutching at the warmth of my own body, of the sun's frail kisses. Locks flew astray, amber in the day, dancing against my naked shoulders in sweet reminder as I hugged my arms and stared out into the golden sun and the birds that sailed towards its fiery embrace-

And wouldn't that be weird, than?

To sail to the sun?

To fly to the sun?

Wouldn't it?

_Wouldn't it?_

I sighed.

In the middle of those dark waters, sitting smack in the soft, orange waves, rocking blimps in the rolling, bleak waters were two ships, mere dots at this horrible height, white sails burning gold in the light of the dying day; I could barely seem them, not in gloom, not at this distance, but they were there, in the middle of the ocean, tiny, golden waves crashing against the dark wood, fiery sails tearing through the burning wind. There were so small, so far away that they looked like miniature toy ships, mere models rocking about in the endless maw of the great ocean, so alone, so insignificant in the endless plains of the dark waters and gigantic crown of the black mountains. They were trivial, slight, unimportant really in the great scheme of things, mere dust in the eyes of the universe-

But they were there.

They were alive.

Tiny little lights had become to rock along with the dark ships, tiny little bobs of golden light, the invisible, indiscernible crewmen lighting up the routine candles for the approaching night, a dozen of so fairies bobbing their frail light in the dark plains of the rolling oceans. White sails soared brilliant, glowing gold in the sunset, like fire streaking through the skies, tearing through the burning world; it had to be the _Flying Dutchman_, of course, looming high and above its companion but still nothing more than a far-away blimp in the universe of the seas. Beside it, the dark, black sails of the smaller ship, of _The Black Pearl_, hid it into the gloom of the bleak seas, blending it into the dark waves, a darker shadow, a smaller shadow against its fiery, bigger companion, looming silently in its shade, little dots of light flaring to life like fireflies shaking awake for the night. Waves rocked, crashing mutely, grinding silently, sails tearing through the skies as the ships bobbed on the waters, silent and still, alive-

Alive.

They were alive.

Off to the right, a little away from the dark, hidden _Black Pearl_, a thin trail of black smoke whispered up into the air, right out of the bleak waves, dancing languidly and surrendering to the wind, a frail imperfection in the fading world; it was coming right out of the waters, out of a dark, black shadow in the gentle, orange waves, a bobbing mess of something, misshapen and indiscernible, a tangle of black sinking slowly into the clutching cold waters. At this height, I couldn't see what it was, nothing more than an odd shadow falling into the waves, a shadow that should not be there

_Betty._

It was _Betty._

Of course.

In the soft glow of the fading day, beneath the burning dark skies and before the rolling dark waves and the sinking sun, the memory flashed across my mind, across my eyes, the blood, the bodies, the horrid screams tearing up into the bloody sky as the world exploded in fire, black cloud storming up into the ravaged sky as the blast rocked me off my feet, smoke and fires punching up into the sky, wood raining aflame, debris falling-

Because that had been _Betty._

_Betty _had exploded.

_Destroyed._

For a moment, the vision, the dream of the explosion, the war raced across my mind, stinging me, reminding me-

And than, I looked out into the shadow again, into the weird, black shape sinking into the waters, wispy smoke trailing up from its ruins. Golden waves crashed silently against the dark shadow, against the ruins of _Betty _as the burnt ship slowly sank to a cold, watery grave, falling, fading, disappearing forever-

Had Sparrow been aboard?

Gibbs?

Were they dead too?

Were they?

_I'll never know._

_I'll never know._

I sighed.

In the distance, beyond the two silent ships and the smoking, sinking ruins of _Betty, _little, tiny blimps of black forged against the falling sun, nothing more than dots against the bright gold, retreating into the sunset; they were so small, so very far and small, no bigger than periods on page, dashes of ink rocking to the edge of the world but they could have only been the remainder of Errol's fleet, retreating back to their world, to the fading day. There were several of them, several little dots marching towards the horizon, unison and uniform, abandoning their fight, their war with the three pirate ships, leaving none behind, the waters clean and smooth and dark behind them. They were too far away to make out, too distant to count, but there were so many of them, so many dots racing away to the sunset, forsaking a quest, a hunt that had taken them months-

And only a few hours to prove futile.

After all, Lord Errol was dead, wasn't he?

I had killed him, hadn't I?

_I had killed him._

Nails bit into skin.

I sighed.

_My very last._

Out on the horizon, against the marching blimps, the sun slowly sank into the waves, falling away into the abyss, the burning skies growing darker, the sea growing deeper, the wind growing colder and colder as the day died into the dark clutches of the icy night, the world fading all around me as I stood on that mountain top and stared down into the burning sunset, watching as night slowly woke up and day slowly sank away into its soft blankets of sleep…

And I sighed.

That was all I could do.

I could only sigh.

_My last dusk._

Balder's voice was a dream.

"You forgot something."

I didn't want to turn away, to look away for even one moment, to gaze away from the beautiful dusk, the beautiful world lest it was all to explode and that precious moment swiped away, gone forever-but I turned anyway, reluctantly, hesitantly, tearing my eyes away from the numinous fires and over my shoulder, neck wincing with a sharp knot. Fiery curls burned past, tearing wildly, the medicine man's eye begging me to turn back, to look upon the very last dusk again but I didn't listen anyway, gazing over my shoulder to the source of the voice-

To Balder.

He was there, beyond the edge of The Enfal Tree, trudging up the steep black slope, dust and warm ashes noiseless beneath his naked feet, black whispering in his wake; the incline was steep but he made it quickly enough, trekking up the smooth face of the summit, practically skipping over the dusty ruins. Wind howled, pushing and pushing, cold and icy and in the soft fading glow of the setting sun, in the gloom of the burning skies and the last frail light of the sinking golden orb, Balder was washed in the amber light, head to toe, fires leaping about his golden skin, drenching him in the tawny light. Shadows danced about him, leaped, pirouetting across his broad shoulders and naked chest like dancers on a stage, wild and free, his skin burning like embers of faded fire, cold in the wind. Up above, rushing back against the icy gale, his fair curls were aflame, trailing brilliant streaks of golden fires, the fading orange light of the dying day tinting his hair a stunning amber; as was with his body, fires leaped about his springing curls, dragging behind into the wind, rushing past his face in a tangle of golden fires, wild and free. Without the mess of his curls, his jaw stuck out, large, strong and proud, the rustic wear of his stubbly chin glooming dark in the quiet dusk. Shadows danced about his face, fires and black competing about the skin, nose seemingly longer, cheekbones seemingly higher, the shadows, the gloom distorting his face, twisting his features-

But no.

No worries.

He was still unbelievably pretty.

With a skip of his bare feet, Balder walked up to me, hiking over the whispering black, feet gentle and light upon the fallen ash, like an elf, barely disturbing the black dust at all, not making a single sound; with his fiery curls flying behind in a horrid mess, his shoulders only stood out more, somewhat bigger, somewhat broader, curved muscles of gold now gleaming with the sun's dying glow. He was still without a shirt, running half-naked up the steep slope, his rolling muscles purring with each, long silent stride, washed aglow with the day's last breaths; his arms swung lose, childish, free, biceps and triceps and all the 'ceps' bright with the glow of the sinking sun, smooth, flawless. His gigantic chest heaved with each breath, normal and ordinary, as if the sloping hike and the pushing wind didn't labour him at all, his orange muscles pushing and pulling with such ease. His black pants still clung, dusty and black, his feet naked and dusty, his chest dancing with the dying glow with each steady, easy step up towards me and The Enfal Tree-

But now, there was something else.

Strapped across his chest, from his right shoulder to his left mid-riff, dark as the approaching night was a band of bark, thick and straight, a perfect rectangular cutting across his orange skin, burning aglow yet still so very dark. It was a strap of some kind, a band running across his chest and obviously, around his back, a sling made of a dark bark, strong and sturdy; even at the distance, even in the gloom, I could see that the strange band was etched with golden markings, faint, thin filigree decorating the belt, gleaming like constellations. It was too dark to make out what exactly it was showing, but there was pattern there, some sort of writing, as well as a logo of some sort, gold twirling and dancing, bright and burning in the dark of the bark. Behind, beyond his rushing hair, beyond the golden fires, something stuck out from his back, against his right shoulder, like twigs or something….

His eyes burned with the flames of the dying day.

I sighed.

Again.

_What now?_

"What?" I called down to him, turning by body slightly around and away from the glorious dusk, wincing past the tangle of my hair and icy cold as I glared down at the approaching god, my voice lost away in the howling wind. Yet, somehow, in the midst of his hike, he still heard me, and with a flick of messy, wild, streaming curls, he flashed a smile up to me, that same cheeky, playful smile.

That infuriating smile.

_Idiot._

I didn't even try to smile back.

His voice came muffled and distant.

"This!" He yelled over the howl of the wind and with another, gentle, silent skip over a steep edge, Balder raised his hand, knees still working as he hurried to close the distance between us; in his hand, tucked nicely, perfectly was the sword, his sword, glowing bright and beautiful in the orange light. In the glow of the dying day, the sword stuck out like a tongue of flames, the silver blade reflecting the gleam of the sinking sun, fires raging across the brilliant, sharp edge. Against the backdrop of the gloomy, dusty, valley of ashes, the sword screamed like a bolt of lightning, tearing from the earth, so brilliant, so bright against the scene of death, each tremble, each shake sending furious shards of light reflecting off its gleaming surface, a thousand firelights dancing among the ashes. It was still glowing, faintly, but glowing but even the shine of Balder's sword was no match to the overcoming ambers of the setting sun; beneath the brilliant blade, the gold hilt laughed beautiful, elegant and tough, curving in Balder's palm like a perfect fit, matching him completely. The red ruby was nothing more than an eye drop of raw flames.

Its sharp tip gleamed like a star.

_Damn idiot._

My brow crinkled.

"What do you mean?" I shouted again, against the icy wind but there was really no need to be so loud anymore; Balder had already come close enough, his skipping, gentle feet jumping over the last edge and walking steadily, calmly, silently towards The Enfal Tree, his hand still holding out the sword, his lips grinning like a fool. Dust barely kicked at his approach, fiery golden curls laughing away into the howling gale-

And then, with a swish of rolling flaming muscles, Balder grinned and tossed the sword towards me, hilt first, the brilliant blade gleaming blindly through the air. I didn't even have to think; without so much as a thought, I reached out and grabbed the sword completely out of the dark air, pulling it back towards me, fingers wrapping around the burning blade as my eyes fluttered close against the blinding reflections of the setting sun, the hilt sinking into my palm, fitting into place-

And I felt that surge of power all over again.

I licked my lips.

_Finally._

Balder's grin was a brilliant flash.

"Good!" he announced as he skipped over a tangling, rocky root and finally stopped right in front of me, beneath the clawing, gleaming branches of The Enfal Tree, golden curls raging fire as they tore behind him, streaming rivers of golden fires crashing behind, my own curls fighting against the icy wind, "Brilliant! I can you're natural! Yes, yes! A natural! Now, all we have to do is train a little bit more, get more patience and creativity into your step-"

"Wait, why are you giving me this?" his eyes burned, bright and alive, screaming with joy as he beamed down at me, curls crashing against rocky branches, the orange glow of the setting sun dashing him with all sorts of shadows, "It's yours!"

The wind howled.

The sea whispered.

The sunset.

I shivered.

_Damn._

His grin was that of a child's.

"No worries, dame! You keep it!"

My frown only sank deeper.

"Keep it?" I quirked an eyebrow, bringing my volume down again as my voice bounced off him now and not lost into the cold wind, loud and clear above the howling wind, "It's…It's yours-"

"And I don't really need it anymore! It suits you better, actually, looks nicer on you! Was always a little too big for me, took most of the attention away from me…nah…you keep it. I have my own."

"Own what?"

With a silly grin and wild eyes, Balder twisted his amber body slightly, giving me a glimpse of his back; there, in the gloom of twilight, pressed against his right shoulder was a long and cylindrical quiver, made of the same dark bark as its belt that strapped it around Balder's chest. It was definitely the same bark, carved elegantly and beautiful, thick and fine, a perfectly carved cylinder about the length of my arm. It stuck to his back, dark and narrow, golden filigrees tracing along the earthenware in the same weird pattern, the same loops and curves and strange little pictures of the strap, gleaming bright in the frail of the setting sun. Golden ink bordered the bark cylinder, curving and whipping along its rough surface, the same words, the same shapes tracing along the entire piece, from the strap to the quiver. Sticking out of the mouth of the quiver, piercing up into the burning skies were several arrows, gold arrows, bright and beautiful, fiery in the dying glow, their feathered tips sticking up in brilliant shades of gold, radiant like the sun. Their shafts slid about, stems of bright gold.

Pretty arrows.

I'll give him that.

_Wait._

_I don't remember seeing arrows or quivers in the cave._

My frown didn't leave my face.

"Arrows?"

His smile never wavered.

"And this!"

I hadn't seen it before but there it was, tucked in Balder's other hand, swinging up to my attention before his maddening, burning glee; it was a bow, a large, beautiful bow, tall and big, its main body the same dark wood as the quiver, sharp and long, carved perfectly. The string was nothing more than a thin iron of some sort, but the bow was all natural wood, the same golden tracings dancing along the dark surface. It was enchanting, really, beautiful, even more so than the quiver, the strange letters, the strange words telling a story in gold along the upper limb and lower limb, conflagrating in brilliant calligraphy up and down at the nocks. There was no grip or handle, just the pretty wood, hard and strong, the golden words glaring with the gleam of the sun, daunting, ancient. The nocks were twisted in a pretty swirl of gold.

His grip was iron on the burnished wood.

I kept on frowning.

_I didn't see that either._

"A bow?"

His eyes burned with uncontrollable flames.

"Not any bow. _My _bow. I made it myself, you know."

"You don't say."

"Really!"

"Right…that it?"

"Well, there's always this…"

With a flick of his clever, fiery fingers and a gleam of a flashing smile, Balder reached his other, newly-freed hand down to his hips and from somewhere, a pocket perhaps, pulled out his flute, pretty and quaint among the shadows of his fingers. Golden filigree danced bright, leaping about and with his other hand still grasped tight on the long bow, Balder brought the flute up, right to our faces, grinning and beaming, curls laughing back. His eyes roared with humour.

Shadows crept darker.

The sun sank lower.

The wind battered and bruised.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously? That's all you got? A bow, arrows and a _flute_?"

His grin seemed to gleam flames in the dying of the day.

"Never underestimate a flute, Joey," he said, quirkily enough and than, with laughing curls, tapped the tip of the flute on my head, barely missing the fighting, swarming curls, grinning like a total idiot, "Never. Ever. Ever. If you are to learn anything from me, that will always be the most important; never, under any circumstances, underestimate a flute."

"Right. What's its going to do? Sing the creepy crawlies to sleep?"

A cheeky wink.

"Something like that."

I opened my lips to speak-

And then, with an aggravated sigh, I twisted away from the mess of my curls and faced the icy wind, staring it in the face, gazing out across the bleak silent waters, the ember skies; the sun had sunk lower and in the cold of the whipping wind, the shadows were growing longer, creeping and slithering, the sea growing darker and darker. More little blimps of light had ignited upon those tiny ships, far away, in that other world, casting a soft, quiet glow on the dark waters around them, waves crashing on wood in muted thunders, shadows of trembling gold, the spray kicking up in the dark air in showers of raining diamond dust, gleaming in the burning skies. Hair tangled about, dark in the dusk and in the loud howling of the wind, the icy onslaught of the gale and the growing, leeching shadows, I simply forgot Balder and felt my frown loosened as I stared out into the wonders of the world, lapping in the falling sun, breathing the sweet scent of the sea for the very last time-

And there, far away, far, far below, near the ragged, pale beaches, far away from those two floating tiny ships and smoking ruins of _Betty_ were little blimps, moving swiftly through the waves, cresting through the golden surf, surging across the dark, bleak waters. There were several of them, moving quite swiftly, thin and narrow as they headed over to the pale stretch of the beach, rushing over the waves, waters surging gold around their fervent race-

But what on earth were they?

Behind me, I heard Balder say something, but I didn't really care at this moment, with a single, firm step, I walked further out onto the summit and using the icy wind as my hold, I leaned forward, gazing down, squinting my eyes as I tried to figure out what exactly those weird, thin objects were-

_Boats._

_They were boats._

_Of course._

With a blink of my eyes, it suddenly came to me and in flicker of a second, I realised that I was gazing down at a fleet of boats, making for shore, rushing to the beach, to this very island. It was dark, I was very high up-

But it was boats.

Definitely.

Absolutely.

_What else can it be?_

It had to be the men!

Those darn pirates, coming to shore, to this island…

With Sparrow?

Was Sparrow among them?

Lestrade?

Bootstrap?

Barbossa?

Was that trigger-happy, son a bitch with them as well?

How about Gibbs?

Was he there too?

Was Scarlett coming ashore as well?

_Jared?_

My heart gnawed away.

With a soft sigh, I closed my eyes, lashes fluttering softly against cheeks, my lungs exhaling wearily as I shut out the gloom and fell away into darkness, letting the sorrow, the anger, the pure, biting misery tear through my heart, course through my blood, stinging through my bones and setting deep within, a seed growing in the deepest part of my soul, the wind tearing its way through my body, surrendering to the icy gale-

And wishing, wishing for just a moment, that I didn't have to do this.

Wishing that I had never fallen through the portal.

Wishing that I had never followed Sparrow.

Wishing that I had never had gotten my brother and myself caught up in this mess of pirates and gods.

Wishing that I had never fallen in love with William Turner.

_Because here I am._

_Here I am._

_Here I am, standing on the edge of the world, watching the sun set-_

_And waiting for my death._

_Here I am._

_About to die._

Balder's voice was a low whisper.

"You sure about this?"

With a another sigh, I tore open my eyes, letting the light back in, staring down onto the shadowy rock as the wind whipped back my hair, my heart choked away, tight, strangled, my body suddenly very, very tired; Balder was beside me now, staring quietly out into the sunset, aglow with burning flames, his straggly, fair hair twisting with mine as he gazed silently out into the dying day, smile faded, glee gone. Arrows trembled behind in his quiver as he clutched tightly to the elegant bow, still against his side, golden filigree dancing bright, catching the last light of the day, spiralling along the bark like golden vine. Bare chest heaved quietly, silently, his entire golden body still in the last glow of the day, not a word, not a breath as he watched the sun slowly sink away into the clutches of night, his beautiful face dancing with the orange glow. Blue eyes burned with the gleam of the setting sun.

His voice tingled the back of my mind.

The sword was so warm in my hand.

I breathed.

"Yes."

Gulls whispered into the burning skies, darting, flying towards the crumbling dusk.

The ships waited on the other side.

Golden curls screamed.

"You can return."

I clenched the hilt.

"And what?" I turned slightly towards him, to his pretty face washed in the glow of the dying day, golden tresses flowing in flames, the sea thundering in whispers, the waves gleaming gold, my fist clenching the hilt of the warm blade, the entire world so very beautiful, "Return to what exactly?"

An eye still kept on the surging boats.

Voice rang, true and clear.

"To your brother. To your friends."

The wind howled.

"It's because of my brother that Will's dead in first place."

"Technically, it was that Scarlett's decision-"

"I'm not about to return without Will."

A little smile crept onto his lips.

Golden curls laughed.

For a moment, I just stared at his calm, quiet face and than, with a soft blink of my eyes, I turned away, back to the sea, to the setting sun, to the sitting, quiet ships and the racing boats, watching as the another world moved on while we stood here, caught up in trials of life and death. Wind whipped, cold and rich, stinging against my skin, competing against the surging, rushing warmth of the sword in my blood-

And than I whispered in the wind, barely hearing myself over the howl of the icy wind, throat caught, lungs tight, murmuring out into the world, whispering the truth of all things.

"I can't."

The skies burned.

Moments of silence passed by as Balder and I said not a word, staring out silently into the setting sun, watching as the sun dipped deeper and deeper into the cold, bleak waters, the ocean growing darker and darker, the lights of the ships like little darting fireflies lighting up the approaching night as their smaller compadres rushed towards the shore, breaking over the golden waves, throwing gleaming spray up into the air. Wind rushed, cold and icy, seagulls soaring away into the golden sunset, black against the bright gold disk, the retreating navy now nothing more than dots on the map as the ocean rolled a deep, stormy dark over the horizon and beyond, right up to the glorious sun, waters frosted with crisping gold as the gale tore against the mountain's edge-

And than, Balder was speaking again, his accented voice clear and strong against the howl of the wind, breaking through the silence like a hammer smashing through golden glass.

The sun seemed to be melting into the deep.

My heart screamed.

"It's not a bad idea, actually."

I didn't even to bother to frown.

"What do you mean?"

Shadows moaned.

"Your plan, dame," he said simply enough and this time, I turned back again, staring over at him as he stared back with a little cheeky smile, eyes bright and alive, golden curls laughing as he gleamed under the burning glow of the setting sun, "They won't be able to track us down in the Underworld…well, they can, actually…but they won't think of it, I'm sure! No, no way! Not that quickly anyway."

I didn't have the heart to smile back.

"How fast will it take anyway?"

A cheeky, little grin.

"About two weeks. Give or take."

"You sure?"

"Almost definitely."

"And they won't find us? Your family?"

"They won't think to look in hell, now would they? They know me. They know that after 4000 years underneath this rock, glimpsing the world through visions and my sword, they probably guess that I'll head off to somewhere nice and warm, somewhere up in Greece perhaps-"

"Than-"

"But they don't know _you_, now do they? They don't know how crazy you are."

I sighed into the icy, dark wind.

Waters rolled, dark and deep and quiet as death.

Waves crashed against sand, hushed thunders, far-away thunders.

Boats sailed, crashing through golden waves, racing to land.

My heart sobbed.

_Will._

I clutched at the medicine man's eye again.

"So you think it's crazy than?" I sighed, staring over at his helpless, silly smile, my throat tight, my lungs tight, the wind howling and crying and slamming into my body with a million icy daggers, "This plan-"

Golden curls laughed.

"Of course it is, Joey! Did you even hear yourself? It's bonkers! Mad as a box of frogs?"

Somehow, the tiniest of smiles crept onto my lips.

"Mad as a box of frogs, huh?"

"Mad. Maddy, mad, mad.

"Yet we're still going through with it."

"Well, its not like we have any other plan, now do we?"

Smile gone.

"I suppose not-"

"Oh cheer up, Joey!" he was shouting now, out in the darkening wind, a silly grin splat about his glowing face, grinning up to the fading sun as he spoke away with that maddening glee, eyes dancing with humour, with excitement," It's going to be an adventure! A great, big, bloody adventure-"

"Blood?"

"Every adventure has a bit of blood, Joey-"

"We're going to Underworld to rescue Will, Balder," I frowned again, staring at his grinning face, gripping the sword tired as I spoke sternly above the howling wind, enjoying the last kisses of the setting sun, the last warmth of sunlight, "It's not an adventure. It's not a fieldtrip. It's a _mission_. A rescue mission-"

"Boring!"

"We're not going there for fun-"

"But what's the point of doing something that's not fun?"

"BADLER-"

"Alright, alright," he swung up his large, pretty bow, raising it in mock defence as he grinned down at me, silly as ever, sheepish, eyes burning bright, golden tresses flying back into the gloom of the shadows of the night began to burn through the flaming skies, the sun melting away into the deep sea, my own frown sore and tired, "I get it. It's a mission."

"A rescue mission."

"A rescue mission I'm only going through with because, well…firstly, the Underworld is the safest place for me right now. Secondly…well…. I think they have bananas-"

"Would you shut up about the bananas?"

"It's a genuine concern!"

My only answer was a deep-set frown, which he imitated like a child, barely biting back his humour.

Frustration gnawed all over again.

The wind screamed.

With a roll of my eyes, I turned away from his mocking face and back to the scene before me, towards the growing shadows, the darkening sky, clouds now whipping dark over the sinking golden disk, ships silent and bright, the sea all around tossing with golden waves but darker, blacker, rolling to the ends of the world, bringing the song of the icy wind wherever it went; down below, far, far below, the boats were finally reaching shore, indiscernible crew men grounding the boats and pushing them through the massive, lapping golden waves, rushing to the shore, spray glittering, sparkling like pixie dust, delicate and fine, black jagged rocks nothing more than pinpricks of dark at this height. It was too dark to see any figures, too high to recognise anyone, to see if everyone was ok-

No.

No.

It was already too dark.

_Night was coming._

_Will._

I sighed into the cold gale.

"Will you do it?"

Balder's voice rang with humour.

"Do what, sweet?"

The wind sang sweet and cold.

My stomach twisted.

_Oh God._

"Destroy the world," I turned, staring at him again, looking at him straight in the eyes, biting on my lip, clenching the warm hilt, curls wild and loose in the torrid icy wind, the sun melting away, "Start the war of the gods….bring an end to this universe as we know it…will you do it? Will you?"

His answer came with a blinding grin.

"You're afraid that you're being selfish."

I could barely gulp.

"I _am _being selfish," it came out as wince, a terrible, horrid wince, my throat swallowing back, hot and painful, understanding perfectly what I was doing, what I was risking, my stomach twisting sick at the thought, "I came to you, releasing you, knowing exactly what would come of you but doing it anyway, because all I want is Will-"

"In your defence, you never really quite knew until it was too late."

"Doesn't change a thing-"

"Joey, we can't go back!" He laughed, up into the wind, up into the darkening sky, the cold clutching at my bones, my throat tight, strangled, my lips frowning as I stared up into those burning, bright eyes, the pit in my stomach, the seed growing deep, growing wild, my heart tearing and sobbing into the fading light, "We can't, no matter how hard you try! You've released me-"

"And probably stared the apocalypse-"

"Maybe," he rose a free finger, grinning behind it, smiling happily, his burning eyes leaping with the flames of joy and laughter, golden tresses wild, golden filigree bright on the chest-strap, "Only maybe."

"Somehow, that's enough for me."

"You can't change what has already been done, Joey."

I sighed away into the dying sun.

"No. You can only make the best of it."

He never stopped smiling.

For a few more moments, we kept our silence, drifting away in the quiet of the fading day, watching as the sun faded away into the sea, the waves singing, the wind howling, the ships bobbing silently out in the distance with their little, blipping lights, boats dragging ashore, right out of the waters, the sky tearing away to the dark and lonely night…

I sighed.

Without so much as a sound, I causally slipped the sword into my holster, hanging it from my waist, dangling it by my thigh, somewhat relieved to remove the warmth from my hand, leaving it to glow bright and beautiful at the side of my hips. The metal weighed down, lancing like tongue of flames and in the torrid whirlwind of my flying curls, against the batting medicine man's eye, I turned towards Balder again, eyes wide, searching, my head shaking free all thoughts, all trepidation-

Because I had a mission.

A rescue mission.

I had to rescue Will.

_And there isn't time for silly afterthoughts._

Balder's smile widened.

I cleared my throat.

"We could die."

"Mostly you. Mostly you could die."

"Maybe…but they could find us anyway."

"True…but I'm betting they won't."

A little chuckle choked at my throat.

"And you are willing to risk everything on a bet?"

His wink was a childish kiss.

"Sweetheart, I'm willing to risk the _world _on a bet."

My nose cringed helplessly.

"Somehow, that's not making me feel any better."

"Too bad."

I narrowed my eyes.

For a moment, we kept silent, him matching my squinting, frowning face with a devilish grin-

And than, with a last sigh, I turned back to the sea, watching the sun edging its way down into the waters, sinking and sinking, falling and falling, the wind howling and pulling and tearing through my soul-

And I thought of Jared.

I thought of Scarlett.

I thought of Sparrow and Gibbs and Lestrade and Barbossa.

Hell, I even thought of Bootstrap.

I thought of home too.

I thought of our house.

I thought of Grams and Uncle Justin.

I thought of my lucky truck.

I thought of my Reed and Jasper and Stevie.

I thought of Dad and Johnny.

I thought of Will.

_I thought of Will_

I closed my eyes from the dying world.

"Does it have to be this way?"

His voice was like the beautiful bells of a wind chime, caught away in the cold gale.

The wind was so very sweet.

"Mortals can only enter the Underworld when they're dead."

My tongue was so dry.

"What? Having a god doesn't give me a free pass?"

A little, golden chuckle.

"Apparently not."

I sighed into the black.

For a moment, for just a moment, I waded into the darkness, enjoying the shadows, enjoying the quiet, never wanting to open my eyes again, never wanting to see the world again-

Because there was nothing left to see.

There was nothing at all.

_Will._

My heart sobbed.

"Will…. Will it hurt?"

Balder's voice whispered like a dream in the darkness.

"Hold my hand."

With a soft sigh, I opened my eyes, tearing them open all over again, blinking dark lashes; the world opened up again, beautiful and wide, endless and glorious, the sun falling in the distance, the sky darkening overhead, the sea rolling quietly and peaceful, dark and silent, ships bobbing in silence, light flickering like fireflies, boats grounding, pulling ashore, wind cold and sweet, the entire world a mosaic, a heaven, a paradise of dreams, of memories, of real people and real things, of real family and real friends…

Of real love.

A paradise of real love.

_Paradise._

_This life was a paradise._

_It was always a paradise._

_I was just the fool who never realized it._

A tear trailed down my cheek.

My heart screamed.

I didn't want to do this.

I didn't want to.

Every bone in my body cried, refused, heels dragging into ash, begging me to stay-

But I couldn't.

I can't.

Not without him.

Not without Will.

_Will._

_Will._

My heart burned.

In the silence of the dusk, in the fading light, in the dying world, I stared away into the sinking sun, into the beautiful sun, watching it disappear, vanish into the waves for the very last time, for the very, very last time, the day fading, light fading, night whispering above, pulling the darkness over the silent waves, over the silent ships and grounded boats, over the silence of the world, of this little heaven, of this little paradise-

Of my paradise.

My paradise.

_My paradise._

I whispered into the wind.

"Jared."

My heart screamed.

"Joey?"

Balder was standing there, smiling over at me, gentle and quiet, curls beautiful, face beautiful, blue eyes burning like azure flames, watching me, waiting for me, so beautiful, so radiant, so very perfect in the glow of the burning skies, his smile like a whispering dream in the dying day-

And a hand, a free, bronzed hand held out to me.

Waiting for me.

_Waiting for me._

The tear fell like a star.

"Joey."

My heart died.

_I'm coming, Will._

With a small smile, I grabbed Balder's hand, stared into the twilight and together, we stepped over the edge and into the black waves.

**Wow.**

**I can't believe that it's actually done!**

**I want to thank all you guys who helped encourage me, and who helped me write this in so many ways. Without your reviews, I would never have done this! Thanks to Riddle too, whose constant advice has more than once saved this project. You guys are awesome, and I really appreciate it!**

**I'm going to take a break for a little bit but please, remember to watch out for the sequel, "The Painting In The Attic: The War Of The Gods". I can't say exactly when the first chapter will be out, since I'm taking a break to write some original stuff. However, I'll be back soon so, until next time, see you!**

**XOXO**


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